Shout of the World Eater
by Ja-Kha'jay
Summary: During the turbulent Fourth Era of Tamriel, a traveller is waylaid at the Cyrodiil/Skyrim border, setting in motion a chain of events which will take the reluctant hero to the very gates of Sovngarde itself. Rated for violence, gore, language and sex.
1. Unbound

**Disclaimer:** The Elder Scrolls Series and its associated lore belong to Bethesda Softworks, a Zenimax Media Company. I make no revenues from this work, only my own pleasure.

**Summary:** During the turbulent Fourth Era of Tamriel, a traveller is waylaid at the Cyrodiil/Skyrim border, setting in motion a chain of events which will take the reluctant hero to the very gates of Sovngarde itself. A novelisation of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.

**Author's Note:** This novel is written for those who have never played Skyrim, non-gamers specifically. I've tried to stay as true to the game dialogue as possible, but I have taken some liberties, especially with the College of Winterhold and the Dragonborn's own back story, how it would interact with the world around her. I've retained the core story, but at the same time, I've tried to flesh out the characters and events a bit more. As such, there should be enough extra information to keep even a seasoned player entertained. Published simultaneously on DeviantArt under the same title. Illustrations may be posted there too.)

**Rating: M. **Contains violence, harsh language and sexual themes.

See for more information about this rating.

**Chapter One: Unbound.**

The first thing she noticed was the bone-chilling cold.

It wasn't surprising, she had been on her way to Skyrim, homeland of the Nords and one of the coldest places in Tamriel, but it served to drag her back to the waking world. She could feel the rope binding her wrists, and hear the clopping of horses' hooves and the creak of wagon wheels. Wherever she was now, she was moving.

She thought hard on the events of the previous night.

She'd passed through the border station without a problem; her writ of passage was completely in order. She wandered off the road, blinded by a sudden whirling of snow in the dark. She'd been stupid to travel the pass at night, she should have waited until morning, when the sky would be clear, but she had been eager to press on. They were waiting for her at the College.

As she stumbled her way through the snow, she'd found herself surrounded by men in blue cloaks and Imperial Legion soldiers. There were a great deal more soldiers. The two groups were fighting each other; the clang of steel on steel rang out of the frigid night air. Someone knocked her down and she blacked out as a shadowy figure delivered a punch.

Now, her head hurt from where the soldier had knocked her unconscious. She could feel the cut where his armoured gauntlets had bit into the flesh of her temple. She let out a groan as she opened her eyes. Her winter cloak was gone, and her knapsack with its precious writ, missing. She twisted her binds, but they were very tight.

"Hey you! You're finally awake!" Said a man with filthy blonde hair sitting opposite her. His blue coat was no cleaner, smeared with dirt, blood and grime, same as his face. A single braid adorned his head, curving down and tucked behind his left ear.

"I-" She croaked, her voice hoarse.

"You were trying to cross the border weren't you? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there." He gestured with his bound hands.

"I was trying to get to the College... " She said as she followed his gesture to a thin man in rags with lank, greasy dark hair and deep sunken eyes. He was bound also.

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He growled, and then looked at her. "You there, you and me. We shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The blonde man shot back.

"Shut up back there!" Growled the Legion soldier driving the wagon.

They were on the last of a train of three wagons, each with four prisoners. At the head and tail rode more soldiers, guarding the prisoners. They were heading downhill, the snow beginning to thin, and the red gleam of snowberries provided the only colour on the landscape.

"What wrong with him, huh?" The horse-thief asked, bringing her attention to the man sitting beside her.

The man was solidly built, tall and had dark blonde hair. He was wearing a coat of steel chain mail, but in addition to his wrist bindings, he was gagged with a filthy rag. A bear fur cloak was draped across his shoulders. Yet for all his outward appearance, there was a noble bearing about the man. He had a proud set to his shoulders and jaw. He glared at the horse-thief.

"Watch your tongue!" The blonde man spat. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloack! The true High King!"

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion, if they've captured you... Oh Gods! Where are they taking us?" The thief's voice rose to a panic.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." The blonde man said solemnly.

"No, this isn't happening! This can't be happening!" The horse-thief was almost shrieking his panic.

She was panicking too, and she looked around, twisting and turning her head to see. They were approaching a village, its walls growing in height as the wagons drew nearer. She was shivering from the cold now. The blonde man cast a sorry gaze in her direction, there was nothing he could do to ease her discomfort.

"Hey, what village are you from Horse-Thief?" The blonde man asked the dark-haired man.

"Why do you care?" The man spat back.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home... "

"Rorikstead. I'm-I'm from Rorikstead." His voice was shaky.

"General Tullius, Sir! The Headsman is waiting!" A soldier called out as the wagon trundled through the village gate.

"Good, let's get this over with!" Growled an Imperial man with short cropped hair on a horse. He was wearing gleaming Imperial officer armour, inlaid with gold insignias denoting his rank, his sharp sword strapped to his hip. Beside him, on her own horse, was a stern looking Altmer woman, her mouth twisted in a sneer as she regarded the prisoners. Her garb marked her as a Thalmor agent, one of the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!" The horse-thief pleaded.

"Oh shit!" She sighed, struggling against her binds once again.

"Look at him. General Tullius the military thug. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damned Elves, I bet they had something to do with this." The blonde man growled as the wagon turned a corner, winding through the village streets around a guard tower. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead from juniper berries... " He said sadly. He gave a soft snort, "Heh, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

"Get inside!" A man hissed at his boy on the landing of the local inn as they passed.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers!"

"Inside the house, now!" And they were gone.

The wagon approached a small courtyard, where the two other wagons were drawing to a halt. The driver slowed the horse and the wagon creaked to a stop. She glared at the gawkers, who had come to see what all the commotion was about.

"Why are we stopping?" The thief was twisting his head this way and that, as the prisoners were unloaded from the other wagons.

"Why do you think? End of the line... " The blonde man sighed. "Let's go, we shouldn't keep the guards waiting for us." His voice was steel.

"No wait! We're not rebels!" The horse thief squealed as they got to their feet.

"Face your death with some courage thief!" The blonde man urged as the Jarl and the Horse-Thief jumped down.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The thief whined to the gagged man beside him as the woman jumped down from the wagon, the blonde man landing beside her a moment later.

"Step up to the block when we say your name! One at a time!" A woman barked. The Legion officer stood beside a brown haired man with a book in one hand and a quill in the other. He'd been riding with the rearguard.

The blonde man stepped closer, sharing his body heat with the shivering woman, and for that she was grateful. It seemed chivalry was not dead in Skyrim after all. The blonde man sighed audibly, "Empire loves their damned lists."

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The man with the book called out, crossing the name off his list as the gagged man in the fur stepped forward.

"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric... " The blonde man said, as the Jarl marched with dignity over to the yard where the headsman waited.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The book-man called, and the blonde man left her side, joining his Jarl.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." The book-man announced the next name on his list.

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" The horse-thief yelled at the book-man and he ran, pushing past the Legion woman and down the road.

"Halt!" The Legionnaire shouted.

"You're not gonna kill me!" The thief shrieked as he ran.

"Archers!" The Legion-woman shouted and the thief, Lokir, was brought down, an arrow jutting from the back of his skull. He collapsed onto the road unceremoniously, only a small trickle of blood emerging from the fatal wound.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The Legionnaire yelled at the rest of the prisoners.

She shook her head, sick with dread.

"Wait! You there! Step forward." The book-man said. He studied her for a moment. "Who are you?" He asked, frown creasing his brow.

She stepped forward towards him. She was a Khajiit, a slender feline woman. Her fur was a light grey with dark stripes. Her eyes were a piercing green and her nose a ruddy brown. Her muzzle was a pale cream, with dark whiskers. Her ears each had three golden rings and her mane was tried back into a multitude of small ponytails, partly matted from her ordeal. Although she could normally control it, her tail flicked back and forth, betraying her agitation. Her sharp teeth were chattering as she shivered. She was very cold without her cloak, she'd come from a very warm place.

"M'rassi of Orcrest." She told him, wrapping her tail around her waist in an attempt to keep it warm.

"Are you with the trade caravans, Khajiit? Your kind always seems to find trouble." The book-man asked.

"No. I was travelling to the College in Winterhold. They're expecting me!" She bared her teeth at him, but her eyes were pleading.

"Captain, what should we do with her, she's not on the list?" He asked the woman beside him.

"Forget the list. She goes to the block." The woman barked back, and the book-man winced.

"By your orders... " He said reluctantly. He looked at M'rassi with a look of pity and torment, he knew this was wrong, but he had to follow orders if he didn't want his head to wind up on the block too. "I'm sorry, we'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr." He said sadly.

M'rassi bared her teeth and growled at the Captain as she marched over the where Ralof was standing, her head held high. She would not go to her death mewling like a kitten. She shivered once more, her fur fluffing up, but making no difference. She felt Ralof's warm skin press against her arm as the man looked on with a hard set in his jaw.

The General in the shining armour was there, and he marched right up the gagged Jarl.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some people here in Helgen call you a Hero. But a Hero does not use a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne!" The General told him, his voice thick with contempt.

The Jarl grunted angrily in response, eyes full of rage above his gag.

"You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down! And restore the peace!" The anger in the General's voice grew with each word.

A distant roar echoed around the valley. The Imperial soldiers looked uneasy, looking around for the source.

"What was that?" The book-man asked.

"It's nothing! Carry on!" The General dismissed him and marched over to where the Captain, the headsman and a Priestess of Arkay waited. The headsman's axe gleamed in the sunlight, oddly pretty, given its macabre purpose.

"Yes, General Tullius!" The Captain saluted. "Give them their last rites." She ordered the hooded priestess beside her.

The priestess raised her hands and began to speak. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines on y-"

"Oh for the love of Talos! Shut up, and get this over with!" A brown haired prisoner marched over to the block.

"As you wish." The priestess bit off her prayers.

The Captain placed a hand on the prisoner's shoulder and forced him to his knees before the block.

"Come on! I don't have all morning!" The man sneered.

The Captain planted her boot in the middle of the mans back and pushed him down onto the block.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" He jeered as the headsman readied his axe.

With a mighty swing the headsman swung the axe up, then brought it down, severing the man's head, which rolled into a waiting basket. The gawkers gave cheers and jeers, as the headsman pulled his heavy blade from the block. Blood poured from the remains of the man's neck, and his legs twitched in his death throes. The Captain pushed the body aside with her steel boots. M'rassi felt the bile rise in her throat. She knew death, but not like this.

"Imperial bastards!"

"Justice!

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

Both the prisoners and gawkers were shouting, but the Imperial Officers remained calm.

"As fearless in death, as he was in life." M'rassi heard Ralof say from beside her.

"Next! The Cat!" The Captain shouted.

Again came a roar, closer this time, much closer. M'rassi's blood ran cold.

"There it is again! Did you hear that?" The book-man's voice betrayed his worry.

"I said. Next. Prisoner!" The Captain barked, punctuating each word with a point of her finger at the blood-covered block.

"To the block prisoner, nice and easy." The book-man said.

M'rassi growled at the Captain as she approached the block. The growl turned to a snarl as she felt the Captain push down on her shoulder, and nudged her knees, forcing her down. The gravel was rough beneath her legs, and she felt the hard wood of the block when the Captain forced her over, with a boot planted square between her shoulders. Her tail laid flat on the ground, her ears back, and her neck soaking in the sticky blood of the first prisoner. The iron stink of it filled her nostrils. She twisted her head so she could see both the headsman and the book-man, glaring at them with an accusing look. The latter watched with sadness in his eyes as the headsman hefted his axe.

A roar sounded and a draconic shape sailed over the limb of the mountain.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" M'rassi swore.

"What in Oblivion is that!" General Tullius roared.

"Sentries, what do you see?" The Captain shouted, but she needn't have bothered.

A great black dragon swooped down on the village, landing heavily on the top of the guard tower behind the headsman. It flapped its wings to stabilise itself and its wind buffeted the headsman, causing him to drop his axe.

"It's a dragon!" Someone shouted.

The headsman had retrieved his axe, and turned to face the dragon. The great beast gave a Shout, throwing the executioner off his feet. The sky immediately turned a fiery red, with orange clouds whirling around at a terrific rate.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" The Dragon Shouted and a wall of sound hit M'rassi, knocking her onto her side.

As she lay there stunned, the dragon launched itself from the tower, and for a fleeting moment it resembled the sigil of the Empire, a black dragon on a red background. It flew beyond her field of vision.

This was her chance to escape. She twisted her body and pushed herself to her feet with a combination of her bound hands and her tail. She wasn't cold anymore, too much adrenaline in her blood. The swirling red and orange clouds rained down burning rocks on the courtyard. Ralof ran over to her, hands loose. A pair of Imperial Legion soldiers were firing arrow after arrow at the flying menace terrorising the village.

"Hey Khajiit, the gods won't give us another chance! This way!" Ralof urged, motioning for her to follow. A flaming stone smashed on the footpath beside her, shattering and giving her several nicks and cuts. She ran across the courtyard after the blonde man, dodging the falling rocks.

"Over here!" He ushered her into another tower, slamming the door shut behind him. The door seemed flimsy against such a horror. Inside a man was tending another whose arm was a mangled mess. Jarl Ulfric stood by the door, worry etched into his face. He was no longer gagged.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true!" Ralof asked the Jarl, his voice panicky.

"Legends don't burn down villages!" Ulfric replied, with a surprisingly deep and calm voice. It was almost carefully controlled, giving nothing away of the turmoil inside him. "We need to move now!"

Together, the three of them dashed up the curved staircase up the tower, M'rassi in the lead.

"Fus!" A voice rumbled as they reached a landing, where a Stormcloak prisoner was trying to shove fallen rocks out of the way. "Ro-Dah!"

The wall exploded inwards, stone flying everywhere. M'rassi leapt backward as the dragon pushed it's head into the hole in the wall, snatched up the prisoner and tossed him back into the courtyard, a twisted ruin of flesh and bone.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" The dragon Shouted, gushing an intense jet of flame into the confines of the tower. Ralof tripped over a stone as M'rassi pushed them back, and both he and Ulfric tumbled back onto the stairs.

"Shit!" M'rassi, grabbed an arm with her bound hands, and pulled Ralof up, as the dragon flew away from the opening.

She cautiously approached the edge and looked over. The inn was on fire and the dragon was spewing jets of flame onto the soldiers on the town walls. Part of the inn's roof was missing, she could make it. She gathered all the strength in her legs and tail and launched herself from the ledge. She hit the floor and unable to correct herself properly with her hands she crashed to the floor, scraping the fur off her chin. She struggled upright and dashed along the flaming ruins to the far end of the inn, where she dropped down through a hole in the floor. She landed hard, but stayed upright and leapt through a hole in the wall, as the shadow of the dragon passed over her.

A man in plain iron armour glanced at her, but didn't really see her. Someone was shouting in the street.

"Don't look up! Focus on me!" It was the book-man, shouting at a child in the middle of the street, a desperate look on his face.

"Haming. You need to get over here. Now!" The child started to run towards the soldier. "At a boy. You're doing great!"

The dragon landed in the street, crushing an Imperial Legion archer, the ground trembling under its weight. A man crawled on the ground towards the soldier, and the dragon eyed him.

"Torolf!" The book-man yelled, as the child clutched his leg.

"Yol!" The Dragon Shouted.

"Gods... Everyone get back!" The book-man yelped.

"Toor-Shul!" The dragon spewed an intense conflagration that enveloped poor Torolf, scorching down him to cinders. The book-man, the child and the other man leapt back into the nook between the two buildings. The book-man saw her standing there, hands still bound, blood on her neck, several large cuts, and part of her mane singed away. Of Ralof, there was no sign.

"Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!" He shouted as the dragon took flight once more. "Gunnar! Take care of the boy! I have to find General Tullius and join the defence!"

"Gods guide you, Hadvar." Said the man, who held the boy in his arms. The boy looked on, dazed, his face covered with ash.

The book-man, Hadvar, led M'rassi down the street, past the ruined mound of charred flesh that had been Torolf. He pulled her down the narrow passage between a burnt out building and the wall surrounding the Keep.

"Stay close to the wall!" He shouted back to her and they pressed themselves to the stonework as an ominous "Yol!" was growled.

Sure enough, the dragon landed on the wall, right by their hiding place. M'rassi could have touched the membranous wings if she dared.

"Toor-Shul!" The dragon loosed a torrent of flame down the street, before launching itself into the air once again.

"Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar barked as M'rassi stayed against the wall, too shocked to move. She came to her senses and dashed after the soldier before he got too far, he was the one with the sword, after all. They weaved their way through the smoking ruins of someone's house to the main street into town, where several archers and a mage were trying to bring down the dragon. Several men were down.

"Fall! Damn you! Fall!"

"It can't die! It just keeps coming!"

"Give me your hand! I'm getting you out of here!"

"Hadvar! Into the Keep, soldier, we're leaving!" Tullius shouted from the fray.

"It's you and me prisoner, this way!" Hadvar shouted and he led her away from the chaotic mess that was the town's defence. Together they ran into the large courtyard before the keep, as the dragon's shadow crossed their path again.

A familiar face ran out of the ruins of an archway, making his way to the Keep as well.

"Ralof! You damned traitor! Out of my way!" Hadvar shouted at the Stormcloak soldier.

"We're escaping Hadvar! You're not stopping us this time!" Ralof shot back, his face twisted in a snarl.

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" Hadvar pushed past the blonde man in the filthy blue coat.

"You, come on! Into the Keep!" Ralof shouted at M'rassi.

"With me, prisoner! Let's go!" Hadvar beckoned to her.

"Gods damn it!" M'rassi spat at the two of them, before jogging after Hadvar. She didn't know much about the blue-clad warriors, but Legion soldiers, she trusted.

She kicked the door open as Hadvar glared at Ralof, the blonde man running off into another part of the Keep.

Once inside M'rassi stopped and caught her breath. The cuts in her legs were aching and she was exhausted. She sank to the floor and leaned against one of the support columns. "S'rendarr, help us... " She whispered.

Hadvar knelt down beside her. Their ordeal was far from over. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End-Times?" He shook his head. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was getting out of here alive. "We should keep moving. Here, let me see if I can get those bindings off." He pulled a small dagger out of his boot and sliced away the ropes holding M'rassi's hands.

"Thank you." She said softly, rubbing her wrists from where the rope had chafed.

"There you go. Take a look around. Should be plenty of gear to choose from. I'm going to see if I can find something for these burns." Hadvar stood up, slipping the dagger back into his boot.

M'rassi pushed herself to her feet and looked around. They were in the Keep's barracks, the remains of a half eaten meal on a table nearby. On the wall to her left were several beds, each with a chest at the end. She opened the first, which was empty. The second yielded a set of light Imperial Legion armour, which was better than the ruined clothes she currently wore. She glanced around, and saw Hadvar turn away, deliberately avoiding looking at her. Fool Nords and their modesty.

She quickly changed into the armour, discarding the rags she had been wearing. She hissed loudly as the cuirass rubbed against a burn on her back. She tapped him on the shoulder when she was done.

"There has got to be a sword or two around here." He waved her towards a rack which did indeed have a sword. She took it and hefted it. A sword felt strange in her hands, she was used to her magic. She sheathed it anyway and joined Hadvar by a cabinet, where he'd found a salve for their burns.

He was sitting on the table smearing some of the green paste onto a nasty burn on his neck when she took the jar and got some for her leg, where the fur had singed right off and her naturally grey skin was an angry red from the heat of the dragon's flames.

"Your name was M'rassi wasn't it? From Or-crest?" Hadvar asked as she growled at the pain.

"Last M'rassi checked it still was." M'rassi smiled a toothy Khajiit grin at him, but it held no mirth, only pain and fear.

"Hadvar." He tapped his chest. "Look, can you help me? There a burn on my back, I can't reach it. Please?" He asked.

"Of course." She carefully undid the straps holding Hadvar's armour and peeled it off revealing a terrible burn, skin blistered and weeping clear fluid. It must be agonising.

"You'll need more that a salve on this, Hadvar." She said and she clutched his bare shoulder with her hands, careful not to dig her claws in.

She channelled her magicka and weaved it into a healing spell, which she set to work on Hadvar's back. With her other hand she repeated the same spell, directing it at her own wounded flesh. She knew exactly what to do with burns, she'd had to heal enough of them.

"A healing spell? Are you a priest?" Hadvar asked, surprise in his expression.

"No." M'rassi said, cutting off the spell when she was done. "I'm a mage. I was travelling to the College of Winterhold when I was attacked last night."

"I didn't know the Khajiit had mages." Hadvar said, putting his cuirass back on.

"Some, but not many. I was kicked out of the Synod for accidentally burning down the Conclave in Riverhold." M'rassi said, her voice betraying her regret. It had been an accident. The fools in the Synod were too interested in politics to bother teaching their apprentices the finer points of controlling destruction magic. Several people had died, and the remaining apprentices were turned out.

"No shit... " Hadvar got off the table.

A muffled roar was heard from outside, and they were reminded they were still in grave danger.

"Let's keep moving. That thing is still out there." Hadvar led her over to a portcullis pulling the chain beside it. With a series of loud clanks, the portcullis dropped into the floor. They jogged through a corridor until they came to another portcullis. They heard voices.

"We need to get moving, that dragon is tearing up the whole keep!" Said a man.

"Just give me a moment, I'm out of breath!" Replied a woman.

"Stormcloaks, maybe we can reason with them!" Hadvar pulled the chain, lowering the portcullis.

The blue-coated soldier spotted them, and attacked on sight. Hadvar lunged at them, swinging his sword and catching the woman on her neck. The man swung a massive warhammer at the Imperial soldier, but missed. M'rassi sidestepped Hadvar and let loose with gouts of flame from both hands. The man dropped his warhammer and Hadvar took his head off.

"So much for reason." M'rassi sighed as she searched the bodies, coming up with a magicka potion and a small amount of gold. They'd need all the help they could get.

"Its just the way it is here now. Soldiers are too stuck in their ways to see a better path. I fear we may have to kill more before the day is through. Let's see if I can get that door open." Hadvar ran over another exit, this one barred by a cage, rather than a portcullis. Hadvar sorted through his keys until he found the correct one.

He led them down a wide flight of stairs taking them below ground level. Muffled roars signalled the dragon was still revelling in destruction outside. They turned a corner and spotted more Stormcloaks at the far end of the corridor. Another roar sounded, much closer this time, and the ceiling caved in, raining slabs of stone into the passage.

"Look out!" Hadvar pushed her back as the stones dropped, separating them from the other soldiers.

"Damn that dragon doesn't give up easy." Hadvar studied the stones, while M'rassi brushed the dust off her. They went through a door partly buried by the collapse and ran into a trio of Stormcloak soldiers looking for potions. The three quickly succumbed to Hadvar's sword and M'rassi's flames.

"An old storeroom. See if you can find some potions, might come in handy." Hadvar said.

M'rassi quickly scanned the shelves, pilfering every potion she could find. She hit the jackpot with a barrel that contained several magicka potions.

"Done then? This way." Hadvar told her as she approached the door. He led her further down into the depths of the Keep until they heard voices.

"Freedom, or Sovngarde!" A voice shouted.

"Hear that?" Hadvar asked as he swapped his sword for a bow.

M'rassi nodded in reply as they snuck down the stairs. There was a fight going on below, and the crackling of electricity told M'rassi that at least one of them was a mage. They burst into the chamber and helped fend off a pair Stormcloaks. M'rassi pulled an elderly Altmer from the floor as Hadvar and another soldier finished off the last.

"You fellows happened along at just the right time. These boys seemed a bit upset at how I've been entertaining their comrades." The High Elf said, his face straight but his voice a sneer.

"Thalmor jekosiit!" M'rassi spat at the man. The man was a torturer, and one for the bloody Aldmeri Dominion.

"Don't you even know what going on? A dragon is attacking Helgen!" Hadvar told the wizened old man.

"A dragon? Please. Don't make up nonsense."

"We need to get out of here now! Come with me!" Hadvar waved.

"You have no authority over me, boy!" Said the mer, placing a nasty emphasis on the last word.

"Screw the old man." Said his assistant. "I'm coming with you!" The dark haired Nord ran past Hadvar into the tunnel.

While Hadvar was arguing with the Altmer, M'rassi looked about the room for anything that might help. Her gaze was drawn to a book on a stool. She picked it up and a sense of rightness settled on her, like she was meant to have it. The book was called 'The Book of the Dragonborn.' She rifled through the knapsack beside it, and only finding some apples, she shoved the book inside to read later and slung it onto her back.

"Hang on there's something in this cage." Hadvar motioned her over.

"Oh. I lost the key for that ages ago, the poor fellow screamed for weeks." The Altmer seemed almost proud of the body in the cell.

Hadvar cast the Elven mage a foul look and he pressed some lockpicks into M'rassi's hand. "See if you can get it open."

M'rassi fumbled with the lock, breaking a couple of picks before she closed her eyes and really listened to the noises the mechanism was making. It had been several years since she'd last picked a lock, and she was out of practice. Eventually she got it, and she pilfered the captive's spell book and his mage robes.

"This is more like it!" She said.

"Come on! This way!" Hadvar dashed into the tunnel that the assistant had disappeared into.

"There's no way out that way!" The torturer called out after them.

M'rassi awkwardly peeled off the Legion armour, stashing it in her new knapsack, and struggled into the mage's robe as she ran. Hadvar raised an eyebrow at her as she caught up, slipping the small satchel that the mage also had over her shoulder.

"Gods, I wish we didn't need places like that." Hadvar waved back the way they'd come.

The three of them emerged into a chamber with a stream running through the middle of it. There were several Stormcloak soldiers in there.

"Stormcloaks! Get them!" Hadvar gave a yell, before leaping at the nearest one.

M'rassi sidestepped the pair of them, drowning the next one on a torrent of flame. She soon finished him off, and spied a pair of archers lining up their shots. They also happened to be standing in a pool of lamp oil, fools. She shot a small fireball at the fluid, and the whole lot went up, archers and all. She twisted around when she heard Hadvar give a shout. The torturer's assistant had fallen, a half dozen arrows sticking out at all angles.

She didn't see the man with the mace, until he smashed it into her stomach. She was flung back, hitting the wall and sagging. The man with the blue coat loomed over her and he raised his mace to make the killing blow. It never came. M'rassi opened her eyes as the mace clattered to the ground. A arrow was sticking out from the man's head, run through and out the forehead. The dead man teetered on his feet and collapsed to the side. Hadvar stood there, another arrow nocked, and trained on the dead mans body, as if the he might suddenly get up again.

M'rassi gave a loud groan, and began to focus her magicka into the healing forms, but her concentration slipped from the pain. Hadvar pressed a bottle to her muzzle and she gulped down the potion, feeling the pain disappear, and the bruise heal. It would be tender for several days, but she'd live. Once she was safely out of harms way, she look at healing it properly, but for now it would have to do. "Thanks." She sputtered.

Hadvar helped her up and pulled her towards a corridor. Once he was satisfied she was following, he dropped her hand. They turned another corner and found themselves blocked by a drawbridge.

"Let's see where this goes." Hadvar pulled a lever and the bridge dropped across a gap. As they crossed the bridge another roar was heard from outside. M'rassi could hear the scrape of rock on rock, and she pushed Hadvar off the bridge. She leapt off, just as a rock smashed through the flimsy wooden structure behind her.

"Thank you." Hadvar pulled her up. "We're lucky it didn't come down on top of us!"

"Damned lucky." M'rassi agreed.

"Lets get going." The Nord motioned for her to lead the way.

They found themselves in a natural cave, a stream crashing noisily against the rock. They followed the water, hoping that it would lead out. M'rassi was loathe to get her boots wet, they'd take forever to dry. However they soon came to a blockage. A massive stone slab had fallen edge-on over the stream, leaving only enough room for the water to pass through.

They clambered over some rocks into a side passage and found their way into a spider nest. The great arachnids were the size of a man, and were deadly poisonous. They were native creatures of Skyrim and frost resistant. However, that same thing gave them a weakness to fire, and M'rassi's flames soon finished them off.

"What next? Giant snakes?" Hadvar asked, but was silenced by a faint roar of the dragon.

"By Alkosh, don't jinx us!" M'rassi hissed quietly.

They found the stream again and followed it downstream a short distance before Hadvar grabbed her arm.

"Look! There's a bear. I'd rather not tangle with her right now. Let's see if we can sneak past." He whispered, pointing at the slumbering bruin.

"I've got this." M'rassi cracked her knuckles before she sank into a crouch.

Hadvar watched with concern as she crept closer and closer to the bear, expecting it to wake up and gut her. M'rassi was now close enough to touch the bear if she wanted. She charged the flames in both hands then bathed the bear in a swirling inferno of fire. The bear gave a surprised roar as it succumbed to the flames.

"Okay..." Hadvar said dumbly.

"I spent months hunting West Weald Grizzlies trying to get enough coin from their pelts to come north. Usually I use lightning, it's cleaner and doesn't burn." M'rassi told him as the led him past the smoking remains.

After another few twists they came to an opening. Snow had streamed into the cavern sometime during the previous night.

"Looks like this is the way out!" Hadvar said excitedly. "I was beginning to wonder if we'd make it!"

Together they stepped out into the sunlight.


	2. Before the Storm

**Chapter Two: Before the Storm.**

Gods it was cold out here, M'rassi thought. The sunlight streamed down, and the snowy hillside was blindingly white after the dark of the cave. A loud thump sounded, and the dragon flew overhead.

"Wait!" Hadvar dragged her into the lee of a stone.

They watched the dragon fly away from the remains of Helgen across the valley and over the next mountain range.

"Looks like he's gone for good this time. But I don't think we should stick around to see if he comes back." Hadvar pushed himself out from cover.

"Agreed."

"Closest town to here is Riverwood. My uncle is the blacksmith there. I'm sure he'd help you out. It's probably best if we split up-"

"Not a damned chance!" M'rassi cut him off.

Hadvar smiled at her. "I wouldn't have made it without your help today. Let's go!" He motioned for her to follow.

They jogged down the rough track leading from the cave and within minutes they came to one of the many roads leading away from Helgen. Hadvar took them down one that led down into the valley. The snow gave way to a pale green grass, and along the heavily worn road grew bushy plants with minute red blue and purple flowers.

"Listen, you should go to Solitude and join up with the Imperial Legion. We could really use someone like you. And if the rebels have themselves a dragon, General Tullius is the only one who can stop them." Hadvar told her as they ran.

"I'll consider it, but I'm supposed to go to the College, Arch-Mage Aren is expecting me."

Hadvar remained silent as he digested the information. There were few enough mages in the Legion, and most of those were Synod trained. It would be nice to have a mage trained by the College of Winterhold in their ranks. Their boots thudded heavily on the worn paving stones that lined the road. They came to a break in the trees as the road turned north, and Hadvar slowed to a stop.

"See that ruin up there?" He pointed.

M'rassi could see a large ruin built into a rocky crag of the mountain that dragon had flown over. It had large angular arches, big enough for even a Senche-raht, another kind of Khajiit, to walk under. The place looked very old and creepy.

"Bleak Falls Barrow. When I was a boy, that place used to give me nightmares. Draugr creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that kind of thing." Hadvar chuckled. "I admit, I still don't much like the look of it."

"What's a Draugr?" M'rassi asked, the Nordic word unfamiliar on her tongue. Then again, even Tamrielic felt odd in her mouth. She was a native speaker of Ta'agra, and before being kicked out of the Synod in Riverhold, she'd only ever used Tamrielic to deal with traders.

They continued on down the mountain, the road taking them further north before a sharp turn south took them to the floor of the valley, where a wide river rapidly coursed along a rocky cleft. At the turning point of the road, where it turned north once again to follow the river was a rough hewn stone platform with three standing stones propped up on it.

"These are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape. Go ahead, see for yourself." Hadvar motioned for her to approach them and waited patiently.

"What am I supposed to do?" M'rassi asked as she stepped up onto the platform.

"Just touch one, and you'll receive its blessing. Mine was this one, when I was just thirteen." Hadvar placed his hand on one of the stones, like he was greeting an old friend. The stone bore the likeness of a warrior carrying a battleaxe. There were several dots bored into the picture and M'rassi recognised the star-sign of the Warrior. She looked at the other stones. The Mage and the Thief were also present. Her own birth-sign must be somewhere else, so she picked the one which fit her talents best. As she touched the Mage Stone, she felt an almost tangible shroud wrap itself around her. It conveyed a sense of knowledge and wonder, and she found solace in the sweet caress of the magic.

"Mage, eh? I should've guessed." Hadvar started jogging along the road again.

The river roared down a narrow part, where the water turned into a churning white torrent.

"Whatever you do, as far as I'm concerned, you've more than earned your pardon. But until we get that confirmed by General Tullius, just stay clear of other Imperial soldiers, and avoid any complications, all right?" Hadvar said.

"Alright." M'rassi agreed.

Her keen ears picked up the howling of wolves as they jogged past a rocky overhang. Sure enough, a pair of the brute leapt off the rock, knocking Hadvar down. His hearing was not as good as hers. M'rassi drew her sword and slashed at the canine, not using her magic until they were clear of Hadvar. The wolf she attacked whirled on her and lunged. M'rassi chopped downward with the weapon, and the wolf hit her, though its shoulder was badly cut. She reached up and grabbed the beast by the throat and let loose a torrent of electricity through its body. The beast collapsed, dead, and she pushed it off her as Hadvar managed to push back the other wolf. M'rassi flung a bolt of lightning at the animal, and it was flung into the rock face, with the force of the spell.

"Come on, let's keep moving."

They ran alongside the river for another ten minutes, heading northeast. It was definitely warmer down here than up the mountain in Helgen. M'rassi still felt chilled, despite the run. Skyrim was much colder than Elsweyr. Several conies raced across the road, and M'rassi's Khajiit instincts threatened to take over. She was a natural hunter and she was very hungry. The sun was starting to go down and she'd not eaten since the inn at Pale Pass the night before. It seemed a lifetime ago now.

"I'm glad you decided to come with me. We're almost to Riverwood." Hadvar said as they rounded a corner and the village came into view.

A small gate crossed the road, with a small collection of houses beyond that. There was a lumber mill by the river, with a water wheel turning endlessly, creaking loudly. M'rassi could hear the clanging metal which signalled a smithy, and a small sign showed her where the trader was.

It was the sort of place one could disappear if you wanted, keeping your head low and blending into the locals.

They stopped running as they went through the gate. The town seemed calm, an old woman was tanning some leather and several chickens were running around, completely indifferent to the worries of man.

"Things look quiet enough here. Come on, there's my uncle." Hadvar quickened his pace a bit.

M'rassi saw the smithy on her left, the stink of charcoal and iron rank in the air, the clang of the hammer harsh on her sensitive ears. She swivelled them back and the sound was less intense.

"Uncle Alvor! Hello!" Hadvar called, walking up to the landing outside the smithy.

An older man with dark blonde hair and a grimy face looked up from his grindstone. He had a big thick beard and green eyes.

"Hadvar? What are you doing here?" Alvor asked, leaving his work and walking over to Hadvar. "Are you on leave from-" And he registered his nephew's appearance.

Hadvar looked exhausted, his hair dishevelled, matted with blood and sweat, parts of singed off. His face was filthy, covered with dirt, grime, ash, blood and Gods knew what else. His uniform was in tatters, the cloth torn in many places, and burnt in others. The leather was blackened on his back, and his grey eyes betrayed his shock.

The strange Khajiit beside him looked no better. Her clothes were torn and bloody, her fur unkempt, with a large patch of dried blood on the side of her neck. She had a cut on her cheekbone that she hadn't noticed, which slowly oozed blood. One ear was pointing at Alvor, the other at the old woman and her son across the street. Her Khajiiti eyes were hard to read, but her tail sagged, she was just at tired as his nephew.

"Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy?" Alvor asked as Hadvar climbed up to the patio.

"Shh Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk."

"What's going on? And who's this?" Alvor asked, his voice worried.

"She's a friend. Saved my life in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything but we need to go inside." Hadvar insisted.

"Okay, Okay." Alvor relented. "Come inside then. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell me all about it."

As they moved along the patio to go inside, M'rassi caught a snippet of conversation from the old woman across the street and her son.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!"

"What? What is it now, Mother?"

This did not bode well. M'rassi followed the two men inside, and a little girl ran into her.

"S-Sorry." The girl squeaked.

"Sigrid, we have guests. It's Hadvar and a friend!" Alvor waved them over to the table.

"Hadvar? We've been so worried about you! Come, you two must be hungry. Sit down and I'll get you something to eat." Said a woman with light brown hair who came up some stairs. Most houses in Skyrim were built partly below ground, to conserve heat.

M'rassi and Hadvar collapsed into two of the chairs at the table. Alvor sat down across from his nephew. The little girl sat on a bed on the far side of the room, keeping out of the way but remaining close enough to hear every word.

"Now then, boy. What's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?" Alvor asked.

Sigrid placed a bowl of hearty stew in front of her, a spoon soon followed. M'rassi thanked her and tucked in, keeping both ears on the conversation.

"I don't know where to start. You know I was assigned to General Tullius' guard. We were stopped in Helgen-" He cast the Khajiit a guilty glance. "When we were attacked... by a dragon."

Alvor nearly spat out his mead. "A dragon? That's... ridiculous! You aren't drunk, are you boy?"

"Alvor, let him tell his story." Sigrid gently admonished, putting a bowl of stew in front of Hadvar. M'rassi had finished hers and was chewing on a chunk of bread, not particularly easy with her feline teeth.

"Not much more to tell. A dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it out myself if not for my friend here." Hadvar nudged a shoulder in M'rassi's direction.

Alvor glanced at her briefly before Hadvar continued. "I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I thought you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay."

"Of course, any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine." Alvor smiled at the Khajiit. "I'll help anyway I can. But I need your help. We need your help." Alvor pushed several potions and an enchanted necklace over to her. She took them, grateful for the assistance.

"The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenceless... We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send any soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt." Alvor said.

"Can you tell me about the Jarl?" M'rassi asked the smith.

"Jarl Balgruuf? He rules Whiterun Hold. A good man, perhaps a bit over-cautious, but these are dangerous times. So far he's managed to stay out of the war. I'm afraid it can't last though." Alvor replied, his voice weary.

"Which side does he favour?" M'rassi asked, glancing at Hadvar in his Imperial Legion uniform.

"I don't think he likes Ulfric of Elisif much. Who can blame him? But I've no doubt he'll prove loyal to the Empire in the end. He's no traitor."

"I take it you support the Empire then?" The Khajiit asked.

"Of course. Skyrim has always been part of the Empire. But that doesn't mean I support everything the Empire's been doing lately, but Nords have never been fair-weather friends."

"So what do you think of the war?"

"People are rightly stirred up about the damn Thalmor being allowed to roam around arresting people, just for worshipping Talos. But was it worth tearing Skyrim apart, maybe destroying the Empire? No, Ulfric will have a lot to answer for in the end." Alvor said angrily. "Nords have always supported the Empire, and the Empire has always been good for Skyrim."

"So why are the Thalmor allowed to arrest people for worshipping Talos?" M'rassi asked. The Thalmor hadn't outlawed any of the Khajiiti gods when they conquered Elsweyr a century ago.

"Its from that treaty that ended the Great War, remember, when the Emperor was forced by the Thalmor to outlaw Talos worship. We didn't pay much attention to it when I was a boy - everyone still had their little shrine to Talos. But then Ulfric and his 'Sons of Skyrim' started agitating about it, and sure enough the Emperor had to crack down. Dragging people off in the middle of the night... one of the main causes of this war, if you ask me." Alvor said, his voice angry at the whole situation. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to do a few more things before I clean up the forge for the night. Just got word this morning that Ynglun needs new fittings for his mill down at Whitevalley Wash. You two make yourselves at home." The burly smith got up from the table.

"Hadvar! Did you really see a dragon? What did it look like? Did it have big teeth?" The girl asked excitedly as soon as her father left.

"Hush Dorthe, don't pester your cousin!" Sigrid shushed, and the girl fell silent.

"It's nice to be back in a friendly spot, huh?" Hadvar asked M'rassi, ignoring his sulking cousin. Sigrid took the girl below ground.

"It sure is. A nice bit of moon sugar and I could sleep for a week!" M'rassi grinned. It was almost surreal to be in such a domestic setting, considering that morning she'd been facing the axe.

"Me too, though maybe not the sugar." Hadvar laughed.

M'rassi leaned forward, slumping onto the table and resting her head on her folded arms. Her ears drooped slightly, by the Gods she was tired.

"So you really think I should join the Legion instead of the College?" She asked.

"Of course!" Hadvar replied. "I know, today wasn't the best introduction to the Legion, but I hope you'll give us another chance. The Legion could really use someone like you, especially now. And if the rebels have themselves a dragon, then General Tullius is the only one who can stop them."

"You think Tullius knows where it came from?" M'rassi asked, not lifting her head, but swivelling both ears to the man sitting beside her.

"No. Not yet. After all, a dragon... something out of the old tales and legends. No one could have expected that. But you can bet he'll be trying to figure it out. This could shift the whole balance of the war. If you want to help stop that dragon, your best bet is to go to Solitude and sign up with the Legion."

M'rassi sighed deeply. Wars were messy things. She'd heard rumours of it before she came north. She didn't think much of it, the College prided itself on keeping out of politics, it was the main reason she had chosen the place. Now here she was, caught in the thick of it of it all, and she could see no way of avoiding the conflict other than blatantly ignoring it.

"You make a good case." M'rassi said, and Hadvar's face lit up with a smile. "But first, I'm going to check in with the College. Maybe once I get some training in, I might find myself in Solitude. Besides, if I join up now without more training, the Legion might not be too happy if I accidentally burnt down another building."

"Point taken." Hadvar conceded.

The girl, Dorthe came and tugged on her cousin's arm. "Hadvar, Mama says that she has a tub of hot water for you to bathe. Your friend too."

"You go ahead. I'll go help Uncle Alvor with the forge. Maybe I can repair some of my armour." Hadvar pushed himself away from the table and left.

"What's your name?" Dorthe asked.

"M'rassi." The Khajiit answered, with an amused flick of her tail.

"Mi-raa-see. That's a funny name!" Dorthe giggled. "Are you really a Kaa-jeet? I've never seen one before. Do you really live in the desert?"

"I did. I was born in Orcrest, which is on the edge of the Ne-Quin-Al Desert. It's very warm there. Skyrim is very cold to me."

"Sven the bard told me that Khajiits clean themselves with their tongue, is that true?" The girl was full of questions.

"Only when we have no hot water." M'rassi smiled, her large sharp teeth more apparent.

"Oh right, this way!" Dorthe remembered her task. She led M'rassi by the hand down the stairs, through a narrow passage into a small bathroom. Sigrid was pottering around, fetching towels and soaps. A stool stood beside a small tub filled to the brim with steaming hot water. It was not large enough for M'rassi to sit in, but at least she could clean herself.

"I'm sorry its not much." Sigrid apologised.

"Its more than I've had in weeks. Thank you." M'rassi bowed her head and made a Khajiiti gesture of respect.

"If you need anything, just shout." Sigrid vanished upstairs.

M'rassi looked at Dorthe with an awkward expression. "Does your mother have some thread, and a needle?"

"Yes, I'll go get them." Dorthe ran off.

M'rassi breathed a sigh of relief, finally sweet solitude. Khajiit were usually very social creatures, but with the events of the last day, M'rassi needed some time alone to take it all in.

She stripped out of the dead mage's robes and worked her fur to a lather. As she rinsed off her fur, she saw the water was almost black with dirt, ash and grime. She scrubbed particularly hard on the matted in patch of blood from where her neck rested on the block. She poured a pail of hot water over herself and felt stinging all over. She studied her body, looking for any nicks, cuts, bumps and bruises she might have missed. She wove her magicka into her healing spell and sat on the stool, letting it wash over her. All her cuts closed up, her bruises faded and her burns healed. She paid extra attention to her tender stomach muscles, where that Stormcloak man had walloped her.

"You can do magic?" Dorthe asked excitedly as she came back into the room.

M'rassi tensed her shoulders, the girl had surprised her.

"Yes, though not many Khajiit do." The girl was far too curious for her own good. She reminded M'rassi of herself, really. Let the girl ask her questions. "Do you want to help me wash my mane?"

"Can I? Really?"

"Of course."

"Can I braid it?"

"If you want." M'rassi smiled at Dorthe's enthusiasm.

And that's how Sigrid found them. The Khajiit sat patiently on the stool, purring softly as the little girl braided her mane. It was almost funny. She put some clean clothes on a nearby table, wondering why her sewing kit was there. She took the filthy robes her guest had been wearing and washed them, taking them upstairs to the fire to dry. She collected a pot of boiling water from the fireplace and took it downstairs, where the strange woman had dressed and has patiently answering every question her daughter threw at her.

Together the three of them upturned the tub, pouring the dirty water into a pit on the floor. It drained into the river apparently. Sigrid took the boiling water and filled the tub again, adding some cold water from a nearby pail to bring it to a comfortable temperature. They trooped back upstairs and Dorthe continued asking her endless questions while Sigrid fetched Hadvar.

He slunk across the room and down the stairs in naught but his breeches, which elicited giggles from Dorthe. Fool Nords and their modesty.

"Come, Dorthe. You must eat now." Sigrid motioned to the table, and the girl reluctantly went.

M'rassi took the opportunity and went outside to thank Alvor for letting her stay the night. It was fully dark now, the moons rising in the sky. She found him at the forge, hammering away at a workbench, fixing new strips of leather to his nephew's armour.

"Thank you, Alvor. For taking in a complete stranger." M'rassi said.

"Like I said, any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. Here, let me show you something." He wiped the sweat from his brow and showed her over to the forge. He passed her an iron ingot and showed her how to forge a small dagger. She tried on her hunk of metal, and it turned out decent enough, and Alvor showed her how to sharpen the blade correctly. Dorthe soon joined them, she was her father's apprentice and never missed an opportunity to watch him work.

M'rassi held her finished dagger out to Alvor to have, it was his metal after all.

"Keep it, it might bring you luck."

"Thank you." M'rassi said simply, before yawning widely. It was a fearsome sight.

"I'll leave for Whiterun first thing in the morning. I need some sleep."

"Of course." Alvor said as they went back inside.

M'rassi was shown to a bed in the corner upstairs, next to the fireplace. Alvor, Sigrid and Dorthe retired to their rooms downstairs. Hadvar was lying on the bed opposite, hands behind his head, his brow knitted in worry.

"I thought dragons were supposed to be extinct. Wiped out long ago." M'rassi spoke.

"So did I... If the damn Stormcloaks somehow found one, or woke it up... the war might be about to take an ugly turn. Hard to believe it was just a coincidence, that the first dragon anyone has seen for centuries attacks as Ulfric was about to be executed."

"Wasn't it _my_ head on the block back there?"

"Sorry about that."

"Apology accepted." M'rassi chuckled. "So why is Talos worship banned? The Thalmor didn't ban any of our gods when they took Elsweyr."

"The Khajiiti don't worship Talos do they?"

"No, he's not mentioned anywhere in the Riddle'Thar. I didn't know anything about him until I crossed into Cyrodiil. From what I've gleaned he was Tiber Septim, who ascended to godhood, what six hundred years ago?"

"I guess that it wasn't such a big deal in other parts of the Empire, but here it's caused a lot of resentment. Native son and all that. Even I'll admit that it hasn't been the Empire's finest hour. But it wasn't like the Emperor had any choice, did he? If he hadn't signed the peace treaty with the Thalmor, they would have destroyed the Empire. Then where would Skyrim be? That's the part that Ulfric's supporters always conveniently forget about. Unless the Empire stands together, the Thalmor will destroy us all." Hadvar explained.

"So who is Ulfric? And who are the Stormcloaks?"

Hadvar rolled over to face her. "I forget that you're new to the Empire. Ulfric is the Jarl of Windhelm and the leader of the Stormcloaks. They claim to be fighting for Skyrim's freedom, but the war is really about Ulfric wanting to be High King. Ulfric founded the Stormcloaks years ago, as a sort of private army to advance his ambitions. He's always used the ban on Talos to stir people up against the Empire. He never really succeeded in getting much support. So a few months ago, he murdered the High King! That got the Empire's attention!"

"Sounds like a right bloody mess." M'rassi told him. "Who is Elisif? I heard your uncle mention her."

"She's the Jarl of Solitude. Though that's only because she was married to Torygg, the last High King. She's a friend of the Empire, and some would be unhappy to see her on the throne. But enough about the blasted war, its been a very, very long day. I can barely keep my eyes open."

"It's not everyday I escape the headsman."

Hadvar snorted in amusement. "Hey, M'rassi?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

Soon they were both asleep.

M'rassi was rudely awakened by Dorthe jumping on her bed, spouting even more questions.

"By Magrus, did you stay up all night thinking of questions to ask?"

"Yep!"

"Dorthe! Leave her alone!" Sigrid scolded.

"It's okay," M'rassi said. "Can I please have some thread, and a needle?"

"Oh right. Sure, Dorthe I saw them in the bathing room last night, can you fetch them?" Sigrid asked, spooning out great globs of sticky porridge into bowls.

Dorthe soon returned and watched with great interest as M'rassi cut a narrow slit in her robes and stitched the edges so they didn't fray. When she was done, she slipped the robes over her head, threading her tail though the new hole.

"Much better." She sighed.

"Keep them." Sigrid smiled when M'rassi held out the needle and thread.

The two men came back inside as they sat down for breakfast, each carrying an armload of firewood.

"Hod's broken another saw at the mill. I hope Lucan has more steel in stock, since I'm out." Alvor was saying.

"I'm sure he would Uncle. Lucan always kept a small supply for emergencies." Hadvar helped stack the wood.

"So how do I get to Whiterun from here?" M'rassi asked once she'd finished her porridge.

Hadvar laid out his map on the table, and pointed out Riverwood and Whiterun. "Just cross the river and follow the road north. After half a days walk, turn left at Honningbrew Meadery. That will take you to the gates of Whiterun. From there you can take a wagon to Solitude or Winterhold, or any of the Hold Capitals."

"The Jarl's Keep, Dragonsreach is the highest point on Whiterun. You can't miss it." Alvor pointed out the mark on the map.

"Right. Well I'd better be off then. Thank you for all your help. If there's anyway I can repay you-"

"Just get to the Jarl, tell him about the dragon. That's payment enough." Alvor said.

"Listen, I'm going to lay up here for a bit, some of those knocks yesterday hit me harder than I thought. If I get back to Solitude before you, I'll put in a good word with General Tullius." Hadvar folded the map. "Here, take this. You'll need it more than I." He passed her the map.

"Thank you."

"I've put some food by your pack. You'll need something to eat on the road." Sigrid told her.

"I can't thank you enough, now I must be off, or the Jarl will find out about the dragon with his Keep burning down." M'rassi smiled.

She put the apples Sigrid put aside into her pack, which she slung over her shoulder. She shook hands with Alvor and Sigrid and playfully messed Dorthe's hair. Hadvar followed her out as far as the patio.

"Good luck, M'rassi. I hope to see you in Solitude." He held his hand out.

M'rassi clasped his wrist, as Hadvar did hers.

"Walk on warm sands, Hadvar." And with the Khajiiti farewell she was off, trotting north up the road.

She passed through the north gate of the small town and came to the only bridge across the river for miles. A flock of birds flew up as she crossed, and she took pleasure in the sound of the many flapping wings, especially since escaping death the day before. The road turned north again after the bridge and she settled into a loping run, one a Khajiit could keep up for hours. The road soon began to snake its way down the mountainside as the river, now to her east cascaded down the slope through a series of waterfalls. When she looked closely, she could see salmon leaping up the current, on their long journey to spawn. Below her, a vast tundra spread out almost like the grassy Anequina plains of northern Elsweyr, but much colder.

After several hours of the road winding downward, she stopped and rested on a rock. She rummaged around her knapsack for one of Sigrid's apples , relaxing in the sunlight as she ate.

Soon she was back on the road.

The road followed the river north, the water crashing down in great plumes, kicking up a fine mist. At the bottom of the hill was a large building perched on the crossroads. A sign declared it to be the Honningbrew Meadery, with a picture of a beehive. Beyond the Meadery rose Whiterun City. Built onto a hill that climbed out of the tundra, the city was built into three tiers. On the highest one stood an elaborate Keep, carved out of hard oak and richly decorated.

M'rassi followed the road around, and it took almost an hour to wind around the city, curving up the west side of the hill. There was a stable with several pinto horses for sale, and a transport carriage. She passed several guard towers, which looked hastily constructed. The Jarl was expecting trouble from the civil war it seemed.

As she approached the main gates, a guard stepped into her path.

"Halt, Cat! Your kind aren't permitted inside these walls. Besides, city's closed with the dragons about. Official business only." He warned her.

"Riverwood calls for the Jarl's aid." M'rassi told him.

"Riverwood's in danger too? You'd better go in, Khajiit. We can overlook the rules, for now. You'll find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill." The guard unlocked the heavy oak gates, and let her through.

M'rassi was reminded of Orcrest, back in Elsweyr, though Whiterun was a lot less crowded. She ran past a smithy, up the road, through a small square bounded by a pair of shabby stores and a large inn. She continued upward, climbing up a flight of stairs to a larger courtyard that served as the city's center. A large tree grew in the middle of a delicate looking circular structure of wood, but the tree itself looked dead.

The city was beautiful, there was no denying that. But despite the loveliness of the houses, there was something not quite right about the place. As if there was some dark secret that everyone knew, but no-one spoke of.

A preacher was standing before a statue of Talos, brave enough to spread the word about the god, despite the ban. M'rassi hurried past him further up the hill to the keep. A single guard was posted at the door, but he did not question her as she entered, which surprised M'rassi, considering the outright hostility she was shown by the fellow at the gate.

Inside, the Keep was massive, a long fire pit ran halfway down the length of the hall, long tables on either side. At the front of the hall was a raised dais where the Jarl was arguing with a thin man in fine clothing. As she approached a Dunmer woman drew her sword, marching towards her in challenge.

"What's the meaning of this interruption, Cat? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors." She growled.

"Alvor sent me. Riverwood is in danger." M'rassi told her.

"As Housecarl, my job is to deal with all dangers that threaten the Jarl or his people. So you have my attention. Now, explain yourself."

"A dragon has attacked Helgen."

"You know about Helgen? The Jarl will want to speak with you personally. Approach." The Dunmer sheathed her sword and waved M'rassi forward, a surprised expression on her merish features.

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater slouched on his throne, regarding the Khajiit before him with interest. He wore rich clothing, the pelt of a wolf flung across his shoulders. He had long blonde hair, brushed back with an ornate braid on either side. His beard was neatly trimmed, longer on his chin than his jaw. He had a wide pointed nose and green eyes, his brow adorned by a golden circlet encrusted with rubies and emeralds. He was thin and wiry, unlike his brother, who was a bear-like figure looming in the shadows nearby. The Jarl was not what M'rassi had been expecting.

"So, you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?" Not quite believing what he'd just heard. His voice was deep and rich, and he spoke with a thick Nordic accent.

"The dragon destroyed Helgen, my Jarl. Last I saw it was headed this way."

"By Ysmir! Irileth was right!" He turned to the thin Imperial man that stood beside him. "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

"My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once!" The Dark Elf said. "It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains... "

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as provocation!" Shot back Proventus. "He'll presume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him! We should-"

"Enough!" Barked the Jarl, his voice harsh. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold or slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once!"

"Yes, my Jarl." The Dunmer woman bowed, before dashing from the hall.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." Proventus said meekly.

"That would be best." The Jarl dismissed him. He turned back to M'rassi. "Well done. You sought me out on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it. Take this as a small token of my esteem." He tossed her a pouch of coin. It felt rather heavy.

"Thank you, my Jarl."

"There is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps. Come, let's go find Farengar, my court-wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and... rumours of dragons." The Jarl pushed himself out of his throne, motioning for M'rassi to follow.


	3. Bleak Falls Barrow

**Chapter Three: Bleak Falls Barrow**.

They found Farengar Secret-Fire pottering around with some soul gems in a room just off the main hall. There were enchanting and alchemical apparatus scattered across a pair of tables at the rear of the room. The table Farengar was hunched over was piled high with books, various soul gems, jewellery and ingredients for potions. A large cloth map of Skyrim was pinned to a wooden frame with some small tacks hammered into the edge. The mage himself was a skinny Nord, with a mop of brown hair, a pair of braids behind his ears and very prominent mutton-chops lining his jaw.

"Farengar, I think I've found someone to help with your dragon project."

The mage looked up, with a confused look when the Jarl spoke.

"Go ahead and fill her in with all the details." The Jarl told him.

Farengar turned to the guest and was surprised to see the Khajiit woman.

"So, the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" He said, shuffling some papers around on the table. "Oh yes, he must be referring to my research on the dragons." He knocked over an inkpot, swearing softly. He hurriedly mopped it up with a blackened rag. Evidently this was not the first time he'd done that. "Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me." He scrubbed the ink into the woodwork of the table, it was never going to come out now.

"Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin is search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

"Alright, I'll bite. Where am I going, and what am I fetching?" M'rassi replied, her tone mildly sarcastic.

"Straight to the point eh? No need for tedious hows and whys. I like that. Leave those details to your betters, am I right?"

M'rassi growled a warning, and the Jarl snorted his amusement.

"I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow-"

M'rassi's mind conjured up an unbidden memory of Hadvar pointing out the ruins to her. How they had frightened him when he was a child.

"-a 'Dragonstone,' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites." Farengar had not noticed her attention drift. "Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself."

M'rassi very highly doubted that last statement. "So what can you tell me about Bleak Falls Barrow?"

"An ancient tomb, built by the ancient Nords, perhaps dating back to the Dragon War itself."

"How do you know this tablet is there?"

"Well, must preserve some professional secrets, mustn't we? I have my sources... reliable sources."

M'rassi decided she didn't want to know.

"Tell me more about the Dragon War. I've never heard of it." She changed the subject.

"I'm not surprised. Even I used to think it was a myth. But not anymore. The Dragon War was a real event, though only the barest glimmer of the actual events has come down to us. Far back in the Merethic Era, the dragons were worshipped as gods in Skyrim. Many of the monumental ruins that still dot the landscape were, in fact, built as temples to the dragons. The details are lost, but at some point the Nords rebelled. After a long and terrible war, the Nords overthrew their dragon overlords."

"So, were all the dragons killed in the Dragon War?"

"Oh, no. Many were killed of course, but some survived into historical times. Why, this very palace was built by one of Balgruuf's ancestors to hold a captive dragon. Hence it's name - Dragonsreach."

"Have you encountered any dragons?" M'rassi asked.

"Sadly, no. My work affords me few opportunities for such an adventure. Perhaps some hero will bring one to Dragonsreach, like old Olaf One-Eye once did. What a fascinating conversation that would be!" Farengar laughed, ignorant of Balgruuf's uncomfortable expression.

"Well I'd better get going, then."

"This is a priority now. Anything we can use to fight this dragon, or dragons. We need it quickly, before it's too late." The Jarl told her.

"Yes, my Jarl." She strode from the hall.

She had no intention of going straight there. She needed sleep, a lot of sleep. The events of the last few days had taken it's toll. She hadn't slept well the night before in Riverwood. She'd had dreams, nightmares of dragons, and fire, and burning. She'd woken up several times during the night. Even Hadvar had been afflicted, whimpering softly in his sleep. The end result was a weariness that was bone-deep. She was amazed she could even stand. She left the keep and walked back down through the tiers to the inn she passed on the way up. The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly.

A sign named it 'The Bannered Mare' with a carving of a pony. Inside, she ignored the common room, marching straight over to the innkeeper. She paid for a room for the night, stalked upstairs and dropped her gear in a corner of her room. After locking her door, she collapsed onto the bed, falling into a fretful sleep.

A soft knocking woke her.

M'rassi pulled herself off the bed and unlocked the door. A short Redguard woman stood there, hand raised to knock again.

"Will you be needing any food, Khajiit?"

M'rassi realised she was very hungry.

"Yes. Just get me whatever's in the pot."

"Yes, miss."

"What time is it?"

"A little past first bell after-noon."

"Thank you. I'll be in the common."

M'rassi gathered her pack, and headed down to the common room. She thanked the innkeeper and sat with a mug of warm mead by the fireplace. She was listening to the bard recite the tale of Ragnar the Red, when the Redguard woman came back with a bowl of carrot and apple stew. It was surprisingly close to Khajiiti cuisine, only lacking the excessive sweetness of moon sugar. M'rassi hadn't had any since Pale Pass, her meagre supply had been lost, along with the rest of her belongings, during the ambush. Her fingers were starting to show signs of tremors. Moon sugar was a well known, and illegal, drug in the Empire, and for the native Khajiit of Elsweyr it was a daily part of life. M'rassi was no exception, born and raised in the northern kingdom of Anequina, she'd eaten it her entire life. She handed the Redguard some coins, instructing her to find her a winter cloak. She'd need one if she was going to venture up into the mountains The woman soon returned with a patched, deep-green, ankle-length cloak with a hood. M'rassi thanked her, slipped her a few more coins for her trouble, finished her meal and made ready to leave.

It had started raining sometime in the night, the water falling in waves, small rivulets running down the street. M'rassi pulled her new winter cloak tight, pulling the hood over her head. She left Whiterun at a swift walk, noting that the carriage at the stable was gone. Once on the main road she settled into her loping run, and she made her way back up the hill to Riverwood.

She arrived at dusk, and found Alvor working at his forge, heedless of the rain pouring down.

"Ho, M'rassi, we weren't expecting you back so soon. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I told Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon."

"Thank you. I saw his men arrived late last night."

"Good. Look, I'm heading up to the Barrow tonight. I was wondering if I could sell you some armour I don't really need."

"Sure, I can always patch it up and turn a profit."

She offloaded all the bits of armour she'd collected in Helgen, wondering why she even bothered carting it down to Whiterun and back in the first place.

"Is Hadvar still around?" She asked.

"No, he left this morning. I'm surprised you didn't see him on the road. Why?"

M'rassi just shrugged, she didn't even know herself. She supposed she felt a strange affection for the man who'd freed her. She took her leave and wandered into the trader across the road, to sell off her extra potions that Alvor had no interest in. She walked in on an argument between a pair of Imperials. When they noticed they had a customer, the man bit his tongue, and the woman turned to M'rassi.

"Maybe you can talk some sense into my brother." She said, before stalking off upstairs.

"Problem?" M'rassi asked.

"Yes, we did have a bit of a... break in." He mumbled. "But we still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold, in the shape of a dragon's claw. They're holed up in Bleak Falls Barrow last I heard." Said the man, who had wide-set eyes and a small mouth. His black hair was cropped short, and he had a thin moustache.

"I'm heading up there anyway, I could see about getting it back if you'd like."

"You could? I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back."

M'rassi sold her spare potions, as well as the few gemstones she'd picked up in Helgen Keep. She left Riverwood as the sun was setting and made her way back across the bridge. Instead of turning north to Whiterun, she went west, the rough track winding up the mountain. She probably shouldn't be doing this at night, but she figured that it wouldn't take long to reach the barrow, then she'd be indoors and it wouldn't matter.

The path grew more and more icy as she climbed, and it became harder to see patches of ice under the snow. After an hour, the road came to a watchtower, perched in the saddle of the mountain. Three of the thieves were huddled around a small campfire, stoically ignoring the light snowfall.

M'rassi settled into a crouch, approaching them like the natural hunter she was. When she was close enough, she loosed a torrent of flame. Two of them were dead before they realised they were under attack, but the third raised his shield deflecting the flames. He leapt at her swinging his sword. M'rassi ducked beneath the blade and brought him down with a bolt of lightning. She stripped the bodies of their coin, lockpicks and anything small and valuable.

The road turned north at the tower, and she followed it around the limb of the mountain, sighting the barrow before her.

The great stone arches loomed forbidding in the dark. She could barely see them through the snow. Up a couple of flights of stairs she found herself on the main concourse. She snuck up on a trio of guards and quickly dispatched them. One of then had been wearing a pair of thick fur boots. She slipped off her own leather shoes, and pulled on the boots, slipping her dagger in as well. With any luck, her toes would thaw out.

As she walked slowly to the Barrow's entrance she studied the ruins. They were remarkably well preserved. If Farengar was right, that made them almost six-thousand years old. Yet the arches still stood. It was amazing. Maybe one day, she'd get to explore one of the Dwemer ruins which dotted the Morrowind border. They were rumoured to be even older, and she'd always been fascinated by the Dwarves.

Inside she heard voices.

She sank to a crouch, sneaking forward. The large chamber was littered with the corpses of skeevers, giant rat-like creatures. As M'rassi got closer she voices became clearer.

"That Dark Elf wants to go ahead, let him. Better than us risking our necks." A mans voice said.

M'rassi charged a bolt of lightning in each hand, and stepped out from the shadows, catching the thieves by surprise. She hit the man in the back as he twisted around, sending him flying down the passage. The woman managed to loose an arrow at her, but it was poorly aimed, and missed completely. She soon joined her fallen comrade in the passage.

M'assi picked the lock on a nearby chest, looting the small amount of gold and gems inside. It had been years since she'd last been dungeon diving. She spied a pot of soup simmering over a fire and she took a sip, the liquid warming her up. The thieves wouldn't be needing it anymore. She did a quick search for moon sugar, with outlaws like these, she might get lucky. Not this time however.

She crept along the corridors slowly and quietly, so she didn't draw the attention of any more of the thieves inside. They'd make short work of the place, stripping the long dead of anything valuable, leaving only ancient strips of desiccated linen and odd shaped embalming tools.

She rounded a corner and surprised a man examining some stone carvings. He was smacked with a bolt of lightning before he even realised he was not alone.

She was in a room with three stone pillars with carvings on them. The door was blocked by a portcullis. There was a stone carving above the door and to either side, with a snake and a whale. Directly above the door the carving had fallen off, crashing to the floor below. The thieves had turned the fallen slab over revealing another snake carving. M'rassi looked from the carvings to the pillars. The puzzle was simple.

She pushed the pillars until the pictures matched the carvings. The pulled the level in the centre of the room and the portcullis dropped into the floor.

Easy.

In the next chamber she found a stack of books, a couple of soul gems and more gold. She slipped the lot into her knapsack.

She crept down a spiral stair case, clearing out a nest of skeevers who decided she might make a good meal. As she pushed through some cobwebs she heard a voice call out.

"Is... Is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?" He sounded like an Elf, his voice almost musical, even in his desperation.

M'rassi rushed down the corridor and the cobwebs got thicker. She burned through them and dashed into a large chamber.

"No! It's coming back! Get it away from me!" Howled a Dunmer caught and bound in a spider web.

Though a large, web encrusted hole in the ceiling climbed a massive spider. It was like the ones beneath Helgen, but much, much bigger.

"Oh, shit!" M'rassi swore, as the mer started shrieking.

"Get it away, get it away!"

"Hey, you!" M'rassi yelled.

The spider whirled around on its eight gigantic legs at the new source of sound. M'rassi doused it in flames, but it charged at her anyway. She back pedalled quickly, retreating into the entranceway. With any luck the giant arachnid would be too large to fit. It reached in with a spiny leg, trying to fish her out.

M'rassi chugged down a magicka potion and continued pouring gouts of flame out of the passage. The spider soon succumbed, reeling back from the doorway, its carapace charred. When M'rassi was certain it was dead she emerged from her hiding spot.

"Get me down! Get me down! If you do, I'll share the treasure!" The Dark Elf pleaded, struggling in his silk bindings.

"All right! Just hold still!" M'rassi told him.

She shot a small jet of flame at the web.

"That's it, I can feel it coming loose!"

The Dunmer dropped to the floor as the silk snapped. He picked himself up, ignoring the cobwebs coating his body. He started laughing, an almost maniacal sound.

"You fool! Why should I share the treasure with anyone!" He dashed deeper into the ruins.

M'rassi gave herself a mental slap, that was the oldest trick in the book. She was losing her touch. She took off after the mer, weaving through several chambers until she heard a loud cuss followed by a crash of metal. She found him, impaled on a wood and metal frame which was swinging back around into a small alcove.

"Unlucky." She smirked as the blood-stained corpse slid off the spikes, collapsing to the floor.

The sound of the trap however seemed to awakened some sort of undead creature. It looked very much like the mummified remains of Khajiit on their burial platforms back in Elsweyr. The corpses were obviously human, wearing various bits and pieces of armour, and their eyes glowed an angry blue. They advanced on the Khajiit, weapons raised.

"So, this is what a Draugr is." M'rassi mused.

She doused the Draugr with streams of flame, and they quickly perished, again. She turned back to the web-coated dark elf, and searched him. She found the trader's golden claw and a small journal. There wasn't much else worth taking.

She carried on into the barrow, she had the claw, now she had to find the mysterious 'Dragonstone' for that absent-minded wizard, Farengar.

For several hours she crept through the dungeon, the corridors twisting and turning. She encountered many traps, most of them worse than the one which claimed the Dunmer's life. There were a great many Draugr. If M'rassi had come down here with a team of scholars this place would have been fascinating. But by this point all she wanted was to find this blasted stone and get out. And if the stone wasn't here, then she was going to have some very, very harsh words with Farengar.

Sometime before sunrise, she guessed by the growling of her stomach, she found a large chamber. It was about fifteen meters long, and at the end was a large door. There was an elaborate lock, which the trader's claw obviously fit into. She tried it but got nothing.

She paced back and forth in front of the door, thinking. She established that the three rings of the lock rotated, and tried a few combinations. It wasn't until she read the dead elf's journal that she worked it out.

She looked at the claw. It was very ornate on the top, with each individual scale lovingly carved. When she turned it over, she saw three symbols. The were the same as the ones on the door.

She pushed the rings until they matched the order of the symbols on the claw, running top to bottom. When she inserted the claw into the sockets and twisted, the door groaned, the rings whirling around, locking into a new combination. Each ring thudded as they settled and the whole door sank into the floor, with a grinding sound of stone on stone.

M'rassi carefully crept forward. This part of the barrow had been sealed since it's construction, anything could be down here. She could see some sort of altar at the far end of the chamber.

She ducked as a flock of bats swooped low over her, their high pitched squeals hurting her ears. She approached the altar with caution. There was a single stone sarcophagus next to a shelf, with more embalming tools. Nearby stood a large chest, locked. At the rear of the chamber was a wall with strange script.

The letters were made of simple slashes and dots, as if they'd been made by claws. She found herself inexplicably drawn to one of the words.

As she approached, the word began to glow, and it shot out silvery threads into her skull. It seared itself into her mind, and though she didn't understand what the word meant, she knew what the word was.

"Fus?" She asked, and the word felt strangely right on her tongue.

"Fus!" Came a muffled Shout, and the lid of the sarcophagus was blown off. A Draugr wearing an iron helmet with large horns pointing upwards was climbing out of its stone coffin, eyes glowing angrily.

M'rassi readied her spells, but the Draugr Shouted again, throwing her back, slamming her against the wall of words. She slid to the floor, stunned, and the Draugr swung its massive battleaxe at her.

The cat-woman rolled away from the blow, but it cut a slash down her leg which immediately started gushing blood. She hissed in pain as she twisted around, kicking out with her good leg, catching the ancient corpse and bringing him down. M'rassi clawed herself to her feet, using the carved letters to hoist herself up. Her cut leg gave out, but she remained upright, pushing against the wall with one hand, and her tail held out to help her balance. With her free hand she shot a jet of flame at the Draugr, which was having difficulty getting up. It's desiccated joints were creaking and cracking.

M'rassi kept up the stream of fire until her magicka ran out, the Draugr howling with rage while its rock hard flesh burned. Limping badly, the Khajiit picked up the Draugr's dropped battle axe and rent its head from it shoulders, with loud clang then the steel hit stone.

"Argh, Merrunz's arse!" She hissed, limping over to the empty sarcophagus. She sat heavily on the lip, and examined her wound.

The cut was deep, through her clothes, skin and biting into her muscle. She felt the bile rising in her throat. Still, at least it had missed the major arteries. She suffered the pain long enough to weave her small amount of remaining magicka into a simple healing spell. The wound began to close, the muscle knitting back together. A spasm of pain forced her concentration to lapse and she couldn't maintain the spell. The magic dissipated, the cut in her skin remained, a great red hole, which stung like a thousand bees. At least it wasn't bleeding anymore.

She had no more magicka potions, and she was unfamiliar with the herbs in the area, so she resigned to wait until her magicka recharged on its own. She looked into the sarcophagus hoping to find that blasted Dragonstone, but it was not there.

She swore softly in Ta'agra as she pushed herself off the stone, limping over the cloven Draugr. She searched the corpse, finding a couple of gemstones. Tucked under the breastplate was a slab of stone. M'rassi pulled it out, hissing as her cut parted once more. Carved into the stone was a crude map of Skyrim. The borders were a little different, but the shape was about the same. There were several dots punched into the surface, and beneath that was a stylised dragon's head, matching a larger version carved above the angular lettering of the wall. This was the Dragonstone. Farengar had been right, after all.

M'rassi managed to wedge it into her knapsack, transferring the gemstones into the small apothecary satchel at her hip. She picked the lock of the chest, and she fished out a few soul gems, a reasonable amount of gold and some small trinkets that might be worth a few drakes.

She mentally plucked on her magicka, and finding she had enough to finish healing her leg, she wove it into the healing spell. The skin knitted together, but it was not perfect, leaving a dark grey scar that could be seen even through her fur. Just another for the collection. For now, there was nothing she could do about the cuts in her clothes.

She left the main chamber through a rear exit, and soon found herself on the side of the mountain, overlooking Lake Ilinalta to the south. She looked around for a safe path down the mountain, but there wasn't one. She settled for using her claws and tail to carefully pick her way down the mountainside.

She walked into the Riverwood Trader just as the Imperial chap unlocked the door.

"Show those thieves not to steal from Lucan Valerius!" He said.

"Done, and done. M'rassi got your claw back." She hefted the heavy claw out of her pack, careful not to scrape it on the Dragonstone.

"You found it? Ha ha ha! There it is! You must've been up there all night! Strange... it seems smaller than I remember. Funny thing, huh?" Lucan examined his prized possession. M'rassi just nodded, grinning like an idiot in her exhaustion.

"I'm gonna put this back where it belongs. I'll never forget this, you've done a great thing for me and my sister." Lucan tossed her a pouch of coin.

M'rassi sold off all the gemstones and trinkets she'd collected, and soon left, heading out of town again. She crossed the bridge and found a nice little niche on the river bank, the stone warm with sunlight. She sat down to rest, but decided on a nap. She had been up all night, and Farengar could go to Oblivion if he wanted the damned stone before she had any sleep.

She napped for an hour, promising her body that she'd make up for it later, and trotted back down the hill to Whiterun, arriving two bells after-noon. She climbed up the hill to Dragonsreach, silently cursing the Jarl's ancestors for building the place on the top of the hill.

As she tramped over to Farengar's corner a small boy ran into her.

"Oh great," He rolled his eyes. "Another great adventurer come to lick my father's boots."

M'rassi bared her teeth menacingly at the boy, sending him running. Smirking, she glanced over at the Jarl, who was debating with Proventus again, but his eyes were on the Khajiit, sparkling with amusement. The boy could stand to learn a bit of fear.

"You see? The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I'm convinced this is a copy of a much earlier text." M'rassi could hear Farengar saying.

She walked over to the door, but hung back when she saw the absent-minded mage had company, and hid behind the doorframe.

A woman was dressed in padded leather armour, with a thick leather hood pulled up, obscuring most of her face. M'rassi could not tell whether she was mannish or merish, only that she was not Khajiit or Argonian. She was leaning over an ancient looking tome on Farengar's workbench. Was this Farengar's source?

"Perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, we could use this to cross reference the names with other later texts" Farengar continued, M'rassi hadn't been noticed.

"Good. I'm glad you're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers." The woman spoke, her voice low, but M'rassi could easily hear with one ear swivelled directly at the woman.

"Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research."

"Time is running Farengar, don't forget. This isn't some theoretical question. Dragons have come back." The woman said with her voice hardened.

"Yes, yes. Don't worry. Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Now, let me show you something else I found... very intriguing... I think your employers might be interested as well-"

"We have a visitor." The woman cut him off, and M'rassi knew she had been spotted. She stepped into the room, her ears back slightly, tail low, a sheepish posture for her race.

"Hmm?" Farengar turned to see who it was. "Ah, yes, the Jarl's protégé! Back from Bleak Falls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems."

M'rassi snorted, flicking her tail indignantly. She handed the mage the Dragonstone without saying anything, letting the results speak for themselves. She dropped her knapsack by her feet.

"Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! Seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl send my way."

"So what now?" M'rassi asked, folding her arms and leaning against the map board.

"That is where your job ends, and mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim. My... associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered it's location, by means she has so far declined to share with me."

Well that answered one question but raises another, M'rassi thought.

"So, your information was correct after all. And we have our friend here to thank for recovering it for us." Farengar told the strange woman.

"You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work." She said in an admiring tone. "Just send me a copy when you've deciphered it." She said in an aside to the Nord man, before the three of them heard the sound of boots running across the wooden floor.


	4. Dragon Rising

**Chapter Four: Dragon Rising.**

"Farengar!" It was Irileth, the Jarl's Housecarl. "Farengar, you need to come at once! A dragon's been sighted nearby!"

Oh gods, not again! M'rassi thought.

"You should come too!" Irileth told the stressed looking Khajiit.

"A dragon! How exciting! Where was it seen? What was it doing?" Farengar seemed as excited as a kit first tasting moon sugar.

"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you." Irileth told him. "If a dragon decides to attack Whiterun, I don't know if we can stop it."

Irileth led them up a staircase off to the side of the Jarl's now empty throne. They walked into the War Room, where Jarl Balgruuf had unrolled a map of Skyrim, tracing the Legion and Stormcloak forces of the civil war. The Jarl himself was talking to a member of the guard.

"So, Irileth tells me you came from the western watchtower?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Tell him what you told me. About the dragon." Irileth encouraged the man.

"Uh... that's right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast... faster than anything I've ever seen!" The man said, clearly frightened.

"What did it do? Is it attacking the watchtower?" The Jarl asked.

"No, my Lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure."

"Good work, son. We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it."

The guard saluted, then left, his shoulders slouching.

"Irileth, you'd better gather some guardsmen and get down there."

"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate."

"Good, don't fail me." Balgruuf said quietly, before he turned to M'rassi. "There's no time to stand on ceremony, my friend. I need your help again. I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon. You survived Helgen, so you have more experience fighting dragons than anyone else here."

M'rassi felt she should point out that she'd been in binds until she got into the keep and the dashing Imperial officer had cut her loose. After that she didn't even see the dragon until it flew away. She held her tongue, simply saying, "Yes, my Jarl."

"But I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now permitted to buy property in the city."

"With all due respect, Jarl. Now is not the time to worry about that." M'rassi said, bowing slightly.

"A fair point, friend." Jarl Balgruuf agreed.

"I should come along. I would very much like to see this dragon." Farengar said.

"No." The Jarl replied. "I can't afford to risk both of you. I need you here working on ways to defend the city against dragons."

"As you command." Farengar left, disappointed.

"One last thing, Irileth. This is not a death or glory mission. I need to know what we are dealing with."

"Don't worry, my Lord. I'm the very soul of caution." The Dark Elf replied.

Irileth led M'rassi out of the Keep and down to the barracks by the main gate. She took them down a back road, though the residential area of the upper class.

Four guardsmen were waiting, all of them armed and armoured.

"Here's the situation. A dragon is attacking the Western Watchtower." She paced back and forth before them.

"What?"

"A dragon?"

"Now we're in for it!"

The guardsmen looked astonished.

"You heard right! I said a dragon! I don't much care where it came from, or who sent it. But I do know it's made the mistake of attacking Whiterun!"

"But Housecarl... How can we fight a dragon?" One of the guardsmen, wearing an open faced helm, asked with a panicky voice.

"That's a fair question. None of us has ever seen a dragon before, or expected to face one in battle. But we are honour bound to stop it, even if we fail. This dragon is threatening our homes... our families! Could you call yourselves Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?"

"No, Housecarl!"

"But it's more than our honour at stake here. Think of it - The first dragon seen in Skyrim since the last age! The glory of killing it is ours, if you're with me! Now what do you say? Shall we go kill us a dragon?" Ileth even made M'rassi feel it was possible.

"Yeah! Damn right!" The guards all agreed.

"Let's move out!" The Dunmer shouted.

The six of them marched out of the city, Irileth setting the pace at a brisk run. After leaving the walls, they turned west and went cross-country until they met up with the main road. Within minutes they spotted a towering pillar of smoke, which rose in a serpentine fashion out of the smouldering ruins of the watchtower.

As they got closer they could see great holes rent in the sides of the structure, the hunks laying strewn across the tundra. A bridge crossing a small stream was split in two, and a tree was on fire nearby.

Irileth motioned them all behind a large slab of rock, peering at the scene.

"No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here." She turned to address her men. "I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere. Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we are dealing with." She ordered.

M'rassi readied her spells, carefully approaching the ruins. The last thing she wanted was for the dragon to swoop down and snap her up, not without at least slinging a spell or two at it first.

The other men fanned out, searching the charred and furrowed field. There were a few scattered corpses, but not all of the men posted at the watch were accounted for. Someone gave a shout from the main tower. It was that Khajiiti woman, she'd found someone.

"Hoi! Get down!" She yelled.

"Get under cover! That dragon - it's still around." Called a Nord in half burned armour from beside her. His arm was a charred mess, he needed to get to a cutter, and soon.

"Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

A roar thundered across the ruin, and M'rassi's blood ran cold. It was a dragon, but it sounded different from the one at Helgen.

"Kynareth save us, here he comes again!" The injured guard whimpered, pressing himself into a crack in the rubble.

"Here he comes! Find cover and make every arrow count!" Irileth barked.

The dragon flew over the tower and M'rassi ducked behind a large chunk torn from the wrecked building, watching as it banked right, swinging around the tower.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" The dragon swooped low over the wreck spewing fire at a pair of archers who were firing arrows from the gap in the broken bridge. The pair of them leapt away, rolling into the stream to extinguish the flames.

The dragon flew around the tower and pulled around hard, and M'rassi lost sight of it. She left her cover and dashed around the tower, hugging the wall.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" The dragon was hovering above a stone ramp, and it flew off when an arrow pierced a small hole in its wing.

It flew low over the ground, banking right and sweeping back around to the tower. It turned sharply in the air, flaring its wings and it braked to land.

"Brit grah! I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!" The dragon taunted gleefully as it landed heavily on one half of the broken bridge.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" It loosed a torrent of flame at another guard who dived into cover.

M'rassi shot streams of sparking electricity with both hands at the great brute, though it didn't seem to feel it. It soon flew off again, pushing itself up with mighty stokes of it's wings. The buffeting wind threw M'rassi from her feet. She caught herself, digging into the partially frozen earth with her claws.

The dragon make another pass over the tower, snapping up a guard and eviscerating him. Internal organs and various body-parts rained downward. It swooped down and landed on a half buried ramp, crushing another guard beneath its massive talons.

M'rassi dashed at it, getting close enough to hurl more lightning bolts at it. She caught a brief glimpse of Irileth firing an arrow, a twisted snarl on her face.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" The dragon Shouted another jet of flame, sweeping it around.

M'rassi tried to throw up a quick ward spell, but it didn't cover her completely.

"Aiieee" She yelped, rolling away from the dragon to the stream, completely soaking her clothes. She reached for her knapsack to get a magicka potion, only to realise she'd left it in Farengar's study. She didn't have much juice left, she'd have to use it wisely.

Swearing she saw that the dragon had taken flight once again, sweeping around the tower. She followed the sound of the dragon's roar back tot he front of the tower, where if flared its wings again, coming straight at M'rassi.

"Die, dragon!" Irileth screamed as it slammed it's talons into the ground knocking all the guards off their feet.

"Thurri du hiin sille ko Sovngarde!" The dragon taunted.

M'rassi alone remained upright, her tail providing extra balance. She flanked the dragon and used the last of her magicka to fling a lightning bolt at the great serpent. It wasn't enough.

The dragon spied her, and flicked up its wing, slamming into M'rassi's stomach. She was knocked down, teeth biting into the dirt. The guards were back up, firing more arrows at the beast.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Khenarthi guide me!" She pleaded.

She slipped the dagger she'd forged in Riverwood, the one Alvor let her keep, out of her boot and charged. She grabbed one of the gigantic horns that adorned the dragon's head and hoisted herself up. She coiled her tail around the other, and grabbed a massive nostril as the dragon tried to shake her loose.

M'rassi struck with her dagger, burying it to the hilt in the dragons eye.

"Dovahkiin! No!" The dragon rumbled, tossing its head back.

Irileth and her guards shot several arrows into the brutes neck before it lowered its head, the Khajiit miraculously hanging on.

M'rassi pulled out her dagger, and slammed it into the dragon's neck, slipping it between the thick scales. She tore a ragged hole and drops of blood the size of fists started spraying over the field.

The dragon roared its last, sinking to the ground, it's head slamming into the ground with a crash. The force finally threw the khajiit from her perch, and she crashed to the ground, blood-covered and panting.

Irileth and the guards ran over and watched as she slowly pushed herself from the ground, her weariness blindingly apparent. M'rassi turned back to the dragon, boots scuffing the dirt.

"Let's make sure that overgrown lizard is really dead." Irileth said. "Damned good shooting, boys."

M'rassi felt something tugging on her heart, something from the dead dragon. She took a few steps toward it, and the corpse started to burn. It didn't burn like it would in a fire, but each scale glowed a dull orange, dissolving into a brilliant white light.

"What's happening?" One of the guards said.

"Everybody, get back!" Irileth barked and they retreated.

Yet M'rassi was drawn to the light. It began to fragment, and threads of silvery white began to stream towards her, entering her body. She felt the dragon's soul within her and she knew the beast's name. Mirmulnir. Allegiance-Strong-Hunt. She felt all its years and experience as they became one with her. As she felt all this happening, the word she'd found in Bleak Falls Barrow rose unbidden to the forefront of her mind.

The dragon's soul seized the memory and poured its knowledge into it. M'rassi found that she understood the word, what it meant and how to turn it into a Shout like the dragons used. Like that great behemoth that sacked Helgen.

Fus. Force. Unrelenting Force. Stamping her will on the world to push foes back.

M'rassi glowed with a silvery white light as the soul's integration finished, and when she opened her eyes she saw the guards watching her, awe written on their faces. Irileth just watched, her expression unreadable.

"I can't believe it! You... You're Dragonborn!" One of the guards told M'rassi. It was the guard with the open faced helm.

"Dragonborn? What does that mean?" She replied.

"In the very oldest tales, back from when there still were dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did isn't it? Absorbed that dragons power?"

"I don't really know what I did... " M'rassi asked, very confused about the whole thing. It wasn't like she willingly took it, it just happened.

"There's one way to find out. Try to Shout... that would prove it. According to the old legends, only the Dragonborn can Shout without training, the way dragons do."

"Dragonborn, what are you talking about?" Another guard asked, wearing no helm at all, a cut on his ash-covered cheek.

"That's right! My grandfather used to tell stories about the Dragonborn." Said another, wearing a helm with a pair of ram's horns, curling back. "Those born with the dragon blood in 'em. Like old Tiber Septim himself."

"I never heard of Tiber Septim killing any dragons." Cut-cheek shot back.

"There weren't any dragons back then, idiot." Said open-helm. "They're coming back now for the first time in... forever."

"But the old tales tell of the Dragonborn who could kill dragons and steal their power. You must be one!" Ram-horns told the Khajiit.

"What do you say Irileth? You're being awfully quiet." Said a fourth guard standing next to the Housecarl.

"Come on Irileth, tell us. Do you believe in this Dragonborn business?" Cut-cheek asked.

"Hmph. Some of you would be better off keeping quiet than flapping your gums on matters you don't know anything about. Here's a dead dragon, and that's something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them. But I don't need some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can put down dragons is more than enough for me." The Dark Elf told them.

"You wouldn't understand Housecarl. You ain't a Nord." Said open-helm.

"I've been all across Tamriel. I've seen plenty of things as outlandish as this. I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arms over tales and legends." The Housecarl said, a hint of contempt on her elven features.

M'rassi shook her head. How could she be one of these Dragonborn? Maybe she should try Shouting, like the guard suggested. The worst that could happen was looking a fool if nothing happened. She tugged on the memory of the word, feeling how to form her voice into a Shout. She turned away from the guards.

"Fus!" She Shouted, and a wave of sound rushed from between her fangs. She saw some small pebbles roll away, the grass parting as the Shout passed over it. She herself was pushed back a couple of steps.

"That was Shouting! What you just did! Must be! You really are Dragonborn then... " said open-helm, the awe back on his face.

M'rassi turned back to the Housecarl, who was shaking her head in disbelief.

"That was the hairiest fight I've ever been in, and I've been in more than a few. I don't know about this Dragonborn business, but I'm sure glad you're with us. You'd better get back to Whiterun right away. Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what happened here." The Dunmer said, red eyes weary.

"Right, but I'm going to quickly collect some of this dragon blood. It might be useful to Farengar." M'rassi said, waving to the pools of the red fluid which were beginning to congeal.

"Right. You there, find a bottle!" Irileth barked at one of the guards.

The man disappeared into the wrecked tower, soon returning with a pair of empty mead bottles. He'd also found some corks to stopper them with.

Meanwhile M'rassi had found that dagger that saved her life, cleaned off the blood with her robes and slipped it back into her boot. It seemed it would bring her luck, just as Alvor said.

M'rassi used her small amount of magicka had had regenerated to siphon some of the blood into the bottles, magically sealing them so they didn't spoil. She had nowhere to put them since her knapsack was back at Dragonsreach, so she resorted to carrying them in her arms as she loped back to the city. She ran with the bottles tucked in one arm, using the small amount of magicka she had left to close the biggest wounds. She still had a great many scrapes and bruises though. As she reached the city gates a great crack of thunder could be heard, rolling over the landscape.

"Dov-Ah-Kiin!" Several voices sounded, echoing and very distant, but the volume was such that they could have been shouting directly in M'rassi's sensitive ears.

With the call, the ground shook, and all the birds took flight. When the thunder stopped its low rumbling everything was eerily quiet.

Everyone in Whiterun was out in the streets, looking at the huge mountain to the southeast, glowing orange in the sunset, its peak wreathed in cloud. They milled around, each and every one of them as curious as the each other, and the ignored the Khajiit running through the streets, bottles in arms, up to the Keep.

M'rassi put the bottles on one of the long tables as she marched towards the Jarl. The Imperial, Proventus Avenicci intercepted her.

"Good. You're finally here. The Jarl's been waiting for you."

M'rassi nodded curtly and brushed past him.

"You heard the summons. What else could it mean? The Greybeards... " The Jarl was saying to his bear of a brother. He looked at M'rassi as she climbed onto the dais, covered in dirt and ash and blood.

"So what happened at the watchtower? Was the dragon there?" Balgruuf asked.

"The watchtower was destroyed, but we killed the dragon." M'rassi answered, pouring every iota of her tiredness into her voice.

"I knew I could count on Irileth. But there must be more to it that that."

M'rassi flicked her tail in annoyance, she'd been the one to strike the killing blow, but of course the Jarl couldn't know that yet.

"I absorbed some sort of power from it when it died."

"So it's true. The Greybeards really were summoning you."

"Who or what are the Greybeards?" M'rassi asked, ears and tail sagging with exhaustion. The Imperial placed a chair behind her, and Balgruuf indicated for her to sit before she fell.

"Masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion high up on the slopes of the Throat of the World." Jarl Balgruuf sounded almost excited.

"And what do they want with me?"

"The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice - the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout. If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift."

"Didn't you hear that thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" Balgruuf's brother, Hrongar interjected. He was burlier than Balgruuf, with his head shaved, and his beard was a darker blonde. He had the same green eyes, and wide nose. He had war paint on his face.

"Of course I heard! It hurt!" M'rassi said back.

"That was the Voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar. This hasn't happened in... centuries at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora." Hrongar explained.

"Hrongar, calm yourself. What does any of this Nord nonsense have anything to do with our friend here?" Proventus asked. "Capable as she may be, I don't see any signs of her being this, what, 'Dragonborn.'?"

"Nord nonsense! Why you puffed-up ignorant... " Hrongar was angry now. "These are our sacred traditions going back to the founding of the First Empire!"

"Hrongar, don't be so hard on Avenicci." Balgruuf stopped his brother before he came to blows.

"I meant no disrespect of course." The Imperial said, though M'rassi could tell he didn't really mean it. "It's just that, what do these Greybeards want with her?"

"That's the Greybeards business, not ours. Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you are Dragonborn, who are we to argue. You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honour." The Jarl said.

M'rassi sagged in her chair. This was too much, all at once. She didn't want this, didn't want to believe this was happening. All she wanted was to go to the College and sleep for a week. Alkosh had a fine sense of humour.

"I envy you, you know. To climb the seven-thousand steps again... I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that? High Hrothgar was a very peaceful place. Very... disconnected from the troubles of this world." Balgruuf said softly.

Sounds nice, might just go there after all, M'rassi thought.

"I wonder that the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They haven't seemed to care before." The Jarl sighed deeply. "No matter. Go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you."

Suddenly he leaned forward, all business.

"You've done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you M'rassi, Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honour that's within my power to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl, and this weapon from my armoury to serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you are part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honoured to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn."

"Thank you, my Jarl." M'rassi accepted the title without comment, though she inwardly winced every time he called her Dragonborn, she had a name gods damn it!

"Back to business, eh Proventus? We still have a city to defend."

"Yes, my Lord."

M'rassi pried herself from her chair, pushed it back over to the table, then chased down the Imperial man. She asked him about a house in the city and he informed her of one that was available. She gave him the axe Balgruuf had given her to hold onto while she retrieved her knapsack. She didn't really need a house if she was going to go to the College, but something told her it was a good idea. Besides, with the summons from these Greybeards, she didn't even know if she would get to the College at all.

She talked down the price and managed to get him to arrange for it to be furnished. If it was one thing the khajiit were known for, it was haggling. She handed him the amount in gold as payment, throwing in some of the more valuable gemstones to make up the small amount she didn't have. She was given a large iron key and told the place would be ready within the hour. She thanked him and was about to leave when she spied the bottles of dragon's blood.

She slipped one into her knapsack and took the other one to Farengar's study. The mage seemed astonished at her survival abilities, when she put the bottle on the table and turned to leave.

"What's this?"

"A present." She said simply.

"Okay... What is it?"

"Have a guess." And she strode from the room.

She was almost at the door of Dragonsreach when she was stopped by a Nord woman in iron armour. She had shoulder length brown hair, a single braid hanging down her left temple.

"I'm Lydia. The Jarl has appointed me to be your Housecarl. It's an honour to serve you."

"So I'm a Thane, what does that mean?" M'rassi asked. They had no such things in Elsweyr.

"The Jarl has recognised you was an important person in the Hold. A hero. The title of Thane is an honour, a gift for your service. Guards will know to look the other way, if you tell them who you are."

"So what does a Housecarl do? I've only met Irileth."

"As my Thane, I'll guard you and all you own, with my life." Lydia said solemnly.

"Okay then." M'rassi drawled slowly. "Come with me, I could use a drink while my house is set up."

"Lead the way." Lydia shrugged.

They got some mead at the Bannered Mare, as well as a hot meal. After a couple of hours, they followed Proventus' directions to her new house, apparently named Breezehome.

M'rassi didn't bother looking around much. She dropped her knapsack on a chair and went in search of a bed to make good on a promise she'd made to her body.

It was the following afternoon when she woke, she stumbled downstairs and munched on the first bit of food she could find. A raw cabbage, of all things, but she was too ravenous to care. She looked around as she ate, and approved of the small house, barely more than a cottage. Still, it was more than she'd ever had. It was larger than her father's old shop. She found her Housecarl had mounted the Axe of Whiterun that the Jarl had given her on a special plaque above the door. Lydia herself was pottering around in a small room scarcely more than a cupboard.

"So, what are your plans, my Thane?"

M'rassi hadn't really thought about it, especially with the goings on of the day before. Perhaps now would be a good time to finally go to the College. The gods-damned Greybeards could wait.

"Winterhold. To the College."

"Do you want me to come?" She asked.

"No. You just stay here and... guard my house." M'rassi shrugged. Having a Housecarl following her around everywhere would be awkward at the College.

M'rassi took her leave, gathered some food and potions, then headed out. She sold her last remaining gems to a sleazy little Breton called Belethor who ran a trader down the street. The she left town and found the carriage, its driver singing Ragnar the Red rather badly.

"Where would to like to go?" He asked when M'rassi walked up.

"Winterhold." She told him.


	5. The College of Winterhold

**Chapter Five: The College of Winterhold.**

The wagon creaked to a halt outside the inn of a small town. Across form the inn was an elaborate longhouse, which M'rassi reckoned belonged to the Hold's Jarl.

"Here we are!" The driver said, indifferent to the bitingly icy wind.

The climate had got steadily colder as they headed north and up the mountains. Winterhold rested on Hsaarik Head, a peninsula on the northern coast of Skyrim, dropping off on three sides with sheer cliffs to the churning Sea of Ghosts. The snow was thick and lingered year-round according to the driver, one of the reasons he stayed further south, one got sick of such a bleak landscape. Indeed it was snowing now, the soft flakes coming down in thick curtains obscuring anything more than a few meters away. It wasn't helped by the twilight hour.

"How do I get to the College from here?" She asked, pulling her winter cloak tightly around her. She'd get used to the cold in time.

"Just follow the road, you can't miss it."

She thanked the man and set off down the road, teeth chattering. She passed several buildings and was reminded of a tome she'd read back at the Synod conclave in Riverhold. Apparently Winterhold used to be a large city, Solitude's ancient rival, until most of the city collapsed into the sea eighty years back. To this day arguments raged over the cause, whether it was from the eruption of Red Mountain in Morrowind, or by the failed experiments of careless apprentices. Either was equally viable, but the general populace of Skyrim blamed the mages, so magic-users were not trusted, being seen as spineless and weak by their bear-brained brethren.

As she walked a shadow loomed out of the snow. It was a massive gate, with the sigil of the College carved into the stone. She climbed the slippery steps and as she passed into the arch a hooded figure stepped from the shadows, barring her way. The shadow resolved itself into an Altmer woman, hood drawn up to shield her from the whirling snow. Her skin was the usual golden hue for her race, and she had her hands tucked into her armpits. M'rassi could smell the coppery scent of destruction magic on her.

"The College is closed to visitors. I suggest you turn around, Khajiit." The elf said.

"I'm not a visitor. I'm here to study. I'm M'rassi of Orcrest; I'm looking for Arch-Mage Aren." M'rassi told her.

"M'rassi? We expected you days ago."

"I was waylaid in Helgen, then again in Whiterun."

"By the dragon attacks? We haven't yet told the other apprentices."

"Yes, I was lucky to escape with my life in both cases."

"You've certainly had a hard road then. Welcome to the College. I'll show you across the bridge. It's dangerous at the best of times, but more so when its dark. We've lost the occasional apprentice." The elf waved for her to follow.

They left the relative shelter of the arch and stepped onto a perilously narrow bridge, which was in a state of disrepair. In places the balustrades were missing and if you slipped, you'd plunge into the inky black water several hundred feet below.

"I'm Faralda, by the way. I'm a master of the Destruction school of magic. You've had correspondence with Arch-Mage Aren, and I'll introduce you soon. There's also Mirabelle Ervine, our Master-Wizard. She'll arrange your quarters and classes."

"Nice to meet you Faralda. I'm hoping to learn more of the destruction school. I was kicked out of the Synod when an experiment went wrong and the Conclave burnt down. I've learned a lot on the road, but I'd really like it if you could show me some control techniques."

"I'd heard about that, and wasn't surprised. Those Synod fools don't bother training their apprentices, then act surprised when something like that happens. I'm constantly amazed they haven't already destroyed themselves. I would be glad to give you a few pointers. Come and see me tomorrow evening after your first classes and I'll see what I can do. Here we are."

They'd stopped in front of a massive gate, emblazoned with the College emblem. Faralda unlocked the gate and it swung open with a loud squeal of tortured metal. The hinges badly needed oiling, M'rassi though, her ears laid flat trying to block the noise.

Inside was a Dark Elf in an elaborate set of robes, next to him was a Breton woman, dressed in a more decorative version of M'rassi's own robes. When they noticed the pair approaching, the woman flagged down a maid and whispered something. The maid hurried away.

"Arch-Mage, this is M'rassi, the apprentice from Elsweyr." Faralda said motioning at the Khajiit with chattering teeth.

"Ah, M'rassi it's good to finally meet you. We don't get many Synod mages here, though I'm sure you'll be hard-pressed trying to find anything to burn down here!" The Dunmer laughed, clearly joking. The College was made entirely of stone.

"I'll keep out of the Library then!" she joked back, and the Arch-Mage grinned.

"Don't let Urag hear you say that! This is Mirabelle Ervine, my right-hand man-" Aren said, and the Breton woman playfully swatted the Dunmer on his shoulder. "She'll get you settled in. Faralda, if you might join me in the Arcaneum, I've found some books which might prove useful to our newest apprentice, and I'd like you to go over them." The elves left M'rassi and Mirabelle, disappearing into a large hall. The maid returned, carrying a bungle of clothing and handing them to Mirabelle.

"Here, M'rassi, wasn't it? These are for you. All our Novices wear them. Might be a bit more comfortable than what you're wearing now." She passed M'rassi the bundle of robes.

"Thank you, Master-Wizard." M'rassi told her, completely aware of the embarrassing state of her clothes. She should have at least washed them while she was in Whiterun, inspecting her new house.

"Please, call me Mirabelle. We're a lot more informal here than in the Synod." She led her into the same building that the others had disappeared into. Inside they were nowhere to be seen. "A fact which annoys our Thalmor... advisor, I'm sure." Mirabelle gestured to a High Elf slouching against the far wall of a large chamber. He was scowling about something, but M'rassi didn't know what.

"Anyway, this is the Hall of the Elements. This is where we hold classes and run most of our experiments. To the left are the Arch-Mage's quarters, to the right is the Arcaneum, our library. A word of caution, don't piss off the librarian." Mirabelle indicated the doors, then led her back out from the building.

M'rassi followed close behind and they walked around the circular courtyard to another tower.

"This is the Hall of Attainment. The novices and junior mages have their quarters in here." She opened the heavy door and they entered the warmth of the tower.

Inside there were six small cubicles, each with a bed, a table and a wardrobe. A curtain hung in each door, offering a small amount of privacy for the occupants. A stairwell led upstairs to where the junior mages slept, and down to the bathing rooms.

Mirabelle led her to one of the alcoves, which was sparsely furnished.

"This is your room. We set it aside when we received your letters. Make yourself at home, get some sleep. The other novices might wander in and say hello. If not, you'll meet them tomorrow. Your first classes begin tomorrow at ninth bell. You'll need to report to Tolfdir in the main hall. He's one of our most esteemed wizards. Now, I better go find Tolfdir and let him know you've arrived. Good luck." And Mirabelle was gone, striding from the Tower with an unreadable expression on her face.

M'rassi shrugged off her knapsack, and sat heavily on the bed. She was finally here, she almost couldn't believe it. Especially given the events of the last few days. She unrolled her new robes, which were startlingly clean. She fished out her needle and thread, again making the alterations for her tail. She pulled the curtain across her doorway, changed out of her old robes and put them in a small chest of drawers wedged into a corner. Her new robes were much more comfortable, and the enchantment woven into the fabric was much stronger than the tattered old set.

She folded the needle back into its small rag and parchment and was carefully slipping it into its special compartment in her knapsack when another piece of folded parchment fell out of another pocket. She didn't remember putting it in there.

She unfolded it and a small red flower dropped out, pressed flat and dried. Inside the parchment was a note written in a neat, yet masculine hand.

_'-M'rassi. These flowers (sorry I don't remember their name) mixed with Mora Tapinella mushrooms make a good magicka potion. Hope this helps. -Hadvar'_

There was also a crude drawing of some mushrooms growing on a dead tree. M'rassi felt her eyes tear up. Even here he was helping her. Hadvar the Helpful. He must have slipped it into her pack before she woke that morning in Riverwood. With all that had happened in the last few days, she felt emotionally stretched thin. Her tears were cathartic, relieving all the tension. She needed that release. She bit back her tears when she heard someone scratching her curtain.

"Hello?" She asked.

The curtain was pushed aside far enough for a young Nord in novice robes to stick his head in. He had his hood pulled up, and a dusting of snow coated his head and shoulders. He'd just some in from outside.

"Oh. I can come back later if you'd like." He said when he saw the new apprentice's expression. She'd obviously been crying. He hadn't known khajiit could cry.

"No, come in. It's fine." M'rassi wiped away the last of her tears. "A friend caught me by surprise, is all. I'm M'rassi."

"I'm Onmund. I was hoping I wouldn't be the only Nord among the apprentices, but I should have known better." The young man replied, sitting down on a chair across from her. He got the feeling there was more to her tears, but didn't ask. He pushed back his hood, he didn't need it inside.

M'rassi took the chance to study him. Onmund was surprisingly solid for a mage, like he had done more manual labour than magic in recent years. Most mages were thin and wiry, like M'rassi herself, but the Nord was a lot more robust. A farm boy, perhaps? He had a face about as handsome as a potato, with a bad under-bite and a broad, flat nose. His blue eyes twinkled with intelligence and concern. He had a mop of brown hair, so dark it was almost black, which was messed from his hood. A pair of thin braids hung from behind each ear, long enough to brush his collarbone. He almost reminded her of that absent-minded court-wizard back in Whiterun, though without the excessive facial hair and hawkish nose.

"Why's that?" M'rassi asked.

"Magic is shunned by most. If it can't be swung over your head and used to crack skulls, most Nords want nothing to do with it. Magic is seen as something for elves, and weaker races. No offence, of course."

"None taken."

"So, how are you settling in?" He asked as she folded up a note and slipped in into her knapsack.

"Ok, I guess. I've only been here an hour. Just came on the carriage from Whiterun. I'm still waiting for it all to sink in."

"Whiterun, eh? I'm from there myself, or near enough. The first few days are the hardest. My parents were less than thrilled when I told them I wanted to study magic. They wanted me to become a farmer or hunter, but that wasn't the life for me. It took me almost a day for it to sink in that I was actually here."

"Mine's not that. My family is... gone... a long time ago. No, it's just that ever since I came to Skyrim, my life has turned upside down. I was just starting to get my life back together, when I walked into fight between the Legion and the Stormcloaks. Then as I'm about to be executed, I got attacked by a dragon. Then again in Whiterun, another dragon! I didn't think I would ever get here. It's just a lot to take in all at once." M'rassi explained.

"A dragon? In Whiterun? By the Nine! Any word from Whitevalley Wash? East of Whiterun."

"The dragon was out west. It's been... taken care of... " M'rassi winced, unsure of how much to tell the younger man. She really didn't want to believe she was this so-called Dragonborn, and the last thing she wanted was someone else making a big deal about it.

"That's a relief... " Onmund sighed. "Bit worse than mine, then." He smiled sadly.

"Just a bit." M'rassi was quiet for a moment. "Sorry. It must be difficult being away from your family."

"Not at all. I consider it a blessing. My family was convinced coming here was a death sentence, or worse. It took years of insisting that this is what I'm meant to do." He shook his head. "Mother gave me an amulet when I came of age, but I don't even have that anymore." He muttered quietly, and M'rassi got the sense that underneath his flippant words, he really did miss his family.

"Why do Nords have such a problem with the College?"

"Well, look at the evidence. Nords generally don't trust magic, so it's not off to a good start. Throw in the Oblivion Crisis, which was caused by magic-users, and the trouble now with the Aldmeri Dominion, who are elves and magic-users. And finally take the fact that the College is the only thing left standing after most of Winterhold was destroyed. It's all fairly damning."

"It's different in Elsweyr. The Clan Mothers all use magic, and are revered for it. Some varieties of Khajiit are much better at magic than others. The Alfiq for example, are excellent spell casters. Not so much with Cathay, like me. Magic is simply accepted as a way of life, thanks to the Thalmor. However, the Synod and the College of Whispers are tightly regulated by the Thalmor, and are much too concerned with politics than teaching."

"That's almost exactly what J'zargo said. He's another apprentice, from Cyrodiil rather than Elsweyr. He should be skulking about somewhere."

"There's another Khajiit here? That would be the first I will have seen since Bruma... So what happened to your amulet?"

"Hmm? Oh. I traded it to Enthir for something I didn't really need. I shouldn't have done it and I tried to buy it back from him, but he's being an arse about it. As much as I don't get along with my family, they're still my family. I didn't think of that before I gave it to him."

"I could see if I could get it back for you." M'rassi said.

"You'd do that? If you could... "

"Where is this Enthir?"

"He's a Wood Elf that sleeps upstairs. He's the one everyone goes to for things. Contraband and the like."

"Wait here, then." M'rassi grabbed her knapsack, she might just have something the elf might be interested in more than Onmund's amulet. She strode up the staircase and scanned the alcoves upstairs. Sure enough she found the mer studying at a desk almost directly above her own room. She scratched on his curtain.

"If you're here for that amulet Onmund, forget it." He did not even look up.

"I'm not Onmund, but I'll take that amulet."

"And why would you want that?" The Bosmer looked around at the Khajiit that was leaning on the doorframe, perfectly at ease.

"I'm told you're a mer who can get things. Need something to practice my enchantments on. And I'm all out of jewellery."

"Your ears say otherwise."

"Each of these earrings makes my fireballs that little bit stronger." She lied, fingering the gold rings.

"Well then, what can you offer me to trade?"

"This." M'rassi presented a glass bottle filled with a thick red fluid.

"And what might that be, Khajiit?"

"Dragon blood."

"Really?" He said sarcastically. "I already have several bottles so I'm afraid I don't need any more."

"Oh really?" M'rassi matched his sarcastic tone. "You mean that bottle over there that despite saying 'Dragon blood' clearly smells like common troll blood?"

"Alright Cat, prove that's dragon blood... "

M'rassi uncorked the stopper and held it under his nose. The Elf immediately started gagging and coughing. It smelled like nothing else he'd sniffed before.

"Okay, it's legit! How did you get it?" The mer asked when he stopped choking.

"I killed the dragon myself, outside Whiterun."

"You? Killed a dragon?" His voice was back to its sarcastic tone.

"Yes, using the Thu'um." She lied, it wasn't until after she killed the dragon that she learned of the Thu'um.

"You can Shout?"

"Yep."

"Prove it."

"Alright, but you brought this on yourself." M'rassi told him

She braced her legs, took a deep breath and shouted.

"Fus!"

The wall of sound slammed into Enthir. It wasn't as strong as the Shout used by the dragon at Helgen, but it was enough to knock Enthir on his arse, proving her point. Several other mages poked their heads out of their rooms at the commotion.

"Alright! Just take the damn thing." He pulled open one of his desk drawers, fished out the amulet.

"Now I don't suppose you have any moon sugar?"

Enthir pulled out a small jar filled with the silvery white powder.

"Good. Keep getting it for me and if I kill any more dragons, you'll get priority. Sound good?"

"Sounds good." Enthir agreed, still shaken after being Shouted at.

M'rassi placed the bottle on his desk in a very deliberate manner, scooping up the jar and the amulet. The amulet was plain silver, stamped with a scythe and a sheaf of wheat, likely Onmund's family crest.

"Pleasure doing business with you." She said as she strode from the room. She was shaking slightly as she walked back downstairs, she couldn't believe she'd done that! Maybe there was some of her old self buried beneath the memories of the accident in Riverhold.

Onmund was still sitting in her chair where she'd left him.

"Easy." She said, tossing him the amulet.

"Ha! I didn't think he'd actually give it back!" Onmund hastily put it over his head, slipping it down his robes. "Good to know I can count on you! Thank you! You didn't have to do that." He looked absolutely flabbergasted that someone would actually be willing to help him.

M'rassi shrugged. "Sei'dar is important to Khajiit."

"What is Sei'dar?"

"In Tamrielic it means 'reaching out from one's interests to embrace another's'. Doing something for someone and expecting nothing in return."

"Can't really see J'zargo doing anything like that. He'd be more likely to steal it and keep it for himself." Onmund laughed.

"Some are like that." M'rassi smiled. "Besides, I didn't exactly come away empty handed myself. I managed to weasel this off him, too." She opened the jar, took a pinch of moon sugar and sprinkled it on her tongue. She shivered with pleasure at the taste. "Sweet Nirni, I needed that!"

"Is that moon sugar?" The Nord asked, brow furrowing. The substance was illegal throughout the Empire.

"Yes. I've eaten it since I was a kit. All khajiit do. I get shakes after a few days without, I'm so used to it. Never touched skooma though. I've seen what that can do to a person. Try some if you like, but only a pinch. It's dangerous to humans in large quantities."

Onmund snagged a small pinch of the power from the proffered jar, and licked it from his fingers. His face curled up almost like he had sucked a lemon. It was much, much sweeter than ordinary sugar.

"Shor's arse, that's sweet! I won't say anything, but best keep it quiet from the Arch-Mage."

"Keep what quiet, hmm?" Said a Khajiiti voice from the doorway.

A snow covered Khajiit with a prominent moustache stood in the doorway.

"Sugar, Clan-mate. Want some?"

"Don't mind if I do." He took the jar and sat next to M'rassi.

"M'rassi this is J'zargo. J'zargo, M'rassi." Onmund said as the two Khajiit passed the jar back and forth.

"Ah, the Cyrodiiliitay." M'rassi remarked as she put the lid back on the jar.

"Yes, I'm the Cyrodiiliitay. I've never walked the sands of Elsweyr. What about you?" J'zargo asked.

"Dro'zhraoiit sei'ya Orcrestiitay ona Riverholdiitay." She replied in Ta'agra, the syllables rolling off her tongue fluidly.

"A true Khajiit. Tell me, have you mastered the expert level destruction spells yet?"

"M'rassi knows some, but I wouldn't say mastered."

"Good, J'zargo will master them first." The cat-man boasted.

"Not everything is a competition you know."

"Yes it is. If you disagree it's only because you are losing so badly you can't see it."

M'rassi narrowed her eyes at him, then spoke something in her native tongue, which not only shut J'zargo up, but forced him to apologise and retreat to his own room.

"What did you say to him?" Onmund asked, not quite believing it.

"I told him to stop acting like a two-year-old kit. Well, more or less."

"Ha! You really put him in his place!"

"Anyway Onmund, it was nice to meet you, but I should sleep. It's been a long day and we have class early tomorrow." M'rassi yawned loudly.

"Of course." Onmund stood. He paused by the door. " Hey, M'rassi,"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for getting my amulet back."

"You're welcome."

Onmund pulled her curtain shut as he left, and M'rassi sat back on her bed, grateful to have a friend.

When M'rassi shuffled into the Hall of the Elements the next morning, her class mates were already there. Aside from Onmund and J'zargo, there was also a pretty Dunmer lady. Heading the class was an old man with long white hair and beard. Standing off to one side was the Arch-Mage, and the Thalmor agent Mirabelle had pointed out the day before. M'rassi took her place beside Onmund when he waved her over, and the old man, Tolfdir, addressed the class.

"Welcome, Welcome! We were just beginning." Tolfdir smiled at his students. "So, as I was saying, the first thing to understand is that magic is, by its very nature, volatile and dangerous. Unless you can control it, it can and will destroy you."

"Sir, I think we all understand that fairly well. We wouldn't be here if we couldn't control magic!" Said the Dunmer, who Onmund whispered was named Brelyna.

"Of course, my dear. Of course. You all possess some inherent natural ability. That much is not being questioned. What I'm talking about is true control, mastery of magic. It takes years, if not decades of practice and study."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get started." J'zargo said, his excitement showing in his voice.

"Please, please! This is exactly what I'm talking about. Eagerness must be tempered with caution, else disaster is inevitable."

"But we've only just arrived here - you've no idea what any of us is capable of. Why not give us a chance to show you what we can do?" Onmund was just as eager to get started as J'zargo.

M'rassi shook her head. It was Riverhold all over again, except Tolfdir actually seemed to care about his students.

"You've been quiet so far. What do you think we should do?" Tolfdir addressed M'rassi, when he caught her motion.

"Safety should be more important than anything."

"Well, your classmates certainly seem to disagree with you. Though you would know. The Arch-Mage has told me about what happened at Riverhold."

M'rassi winced, she knew what was coming next, but she didn't expect the person it came from.

"That was you!" The Thalmor agent stalked over to her, scorn etched into his features. He loomed over her, trying his best to intimidate her.

"What?" Her classmates asked, though not quite all at once. They couldn't believe the mer's reaction.

"I accidentally burned down the Synod Conclave in Riverhold, because some Thalmor jekosiit decided it was too much effort to teach the novices proper control! An experiment went wrong, and the building caught fire. Not everyone made it. Then they kicked me and the others involved out! So I came here, and learning to control it is exactly what I intend to do!" She growled at the Altmer looming over her, holding her ground.

"You dare speak to me that way! I'll have you hanged!" The Thalmor roared.

Something inside the Khajiit snapped. She braced her legs and took a deep breath. It was almost instinctive, the third time she used her Voice.

"Fus!" M'rassi Shouted, her Thu'um pushing the High Elf back.

"Enough!" Arch-Mage Aren yelled, stepping between them.

"M'rassi, do you truly think it wise to provoke the Thalmor? And Ancano, I remind you that you are a guest on these grounds and I will not have you tearing strips off my apprentices, or disrupting my classes. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, Arch-Mage." Said M'rassi meekly.

Ancano took a deep breath, contempt written over his face, but he relented with a quick "Yes, Arch-Mage." before he stalked out the Hall, Aren following closely behind.

The novices all started talking at once as soon as the door shut behind the Arch-Mage. Tolfdir eyed her with curiosity, while Onmund gaped at her in shock. They knew of the Thu'um but had not expected to ever see it, especially not from a khajiit. M'rassi stood there impassively, ignoring all their questions, until Tolfdir charged his hands with lightning then clapped, the sound of thunder reverberating around the chamber. That got their attention.

"Well, now that the excitement is over with, should we get on with our lesson?"

"Yes, Sir." Said the apprentices one by one.

"All right, I suppose we can try something practical. Since M'rassi has demonstrated the need for safety, lets continue on that theme. We'll start with Wards. Wards are protective spells that block magic. I'll teach you all a ward, and we'll see if you can successfully use it to block spells, all right?" Tolfdir turned to M'rassi, who stood quietly a troubled expression on her face. "Would you mind helping me with a demonstration? Are you familiar with ward spells?"

"Yes, I know a couple."

"Good. Now, if you'll stand right over there." He pointed to a circular carving on the floor. "I'll cast a spell at you, and you block it with the ward. Here we go."

M'rassi walked to the spot, and Tolfdir waved the rest of the class behind him.

"Now, cast the ward spell, and keep it up."

M'rassi focussed her magicka, weaving it into a weak ward spell, forming the finished spell into a shield in front of her. Tolfdir stood opposite, the others behind him, watching in anticipation. He charged a fireball in one hand, flinging it at M'rassi. The ball of flame hit the shield and dissipated harmlessly.

"Excellent." Tolfdir commended her when she dropped her shield. "Not a Ward known in Skyrim, but it did the trick. Well, I think we're off to an excellent start. I'd like you all to continue practicing with wards, please."

And so they did. For the next two hours they all practiced their wards, making a game of hurling fireballs at each other with their wards up. Tolfdir threw his own on occasion to keep his class on their toes, or helped correct the technique of one of the apprentices. Everyone forgot about M'rassi's Thu'um with all the fun. This lasted until one of the senior mages burst into the Hall, shrieking with fight.

"Dragon! There's a dragon in the courtyard!" Before she dropped into a dead faint.

"Everyone stay here and look after Colette. Let the senior mages handle it." Tolfdir ordered.

"Sir, I was at Helgen, and Whiterun. Let me help." M'rassi pleaded. She was reluctant to face another dragon, but she did have more experience with the beast than any of the mages at the College. And if all that Dragonborn nonsense was all true...

Tolfdir paused, conflicting emotions all over his face. Finally, he agreed.

"But the rest of you are staying here!"

The pair of them ran out.

"Are you going to follow them?" J'zargo asked.

"Of course." Onmund answered.

"Bet you fifty drakes J'zargo takes down the dragon."

"Only fifty?"

"Alright, one hundred."

"You're on."

They dashed outside and were met by a chaotic scene. All the senior mages were in the courtyard, and a massive dragon was perched on the wall near the Hall of Attainment.

"Yol!" The brute Shouted. "Toor-Shul!" It gushed a torrent of flame into the flagstones, missing Tolfdir and M'rassi by inches. The elderly Nord was slinging great spears of ice at the gigantic reptile, and M'rassi was using both hands to fling streams of sparks at it.

The dragon gave a massive roar and leapt off the tower.

"Everyone! Into cover!" The Khajiiti woman shouted, diving behind a column. The dragon swooped down, making a low pass over the College, spraying gouts of fire down into the courtyard. The snowberry bushes burst into flame, and the dragon swung around and landed on the wall again.

The mages flung everything they had at the beast, and it seemed to slowly have an effect.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" the dragon Shouted another torrent of flame downward, missing the apprentices, but only just. The beast leapt down into the courtyard itself, the ground shaking beneath it, knocking most of the mages off their feet.

The dragon turned to snap at the Arch-Mage, trying to catch him between its teeth. M'rassi saw this, and was spurred into action.

"Fus!" She Shouted, her Thu'um crumpling the dragon's wing. It twisted it's head to the source of the Shout, and M'rassi charged at it.

She grabbed onto a horn and heaved herself onto its head, kicking its eye as she went. The dragon growled in frustration at the small thing crawling on his head. It tried twisting it back and forth, but the woman held on.

M'rassi slipped her lucky dagger out of her boot and stabbed the dragon in the eye. It roared in pain as the rest of the mages continued to pummel it with magic. It gave its head a savage shake, and M'rassi held on by it's nostril, the dagger in its eye, and her tail wrapped around one of the dragons twisting horns. M'rassi pulled the dagger out and stabbed it into the top of the skull, magically enhancing her strength as well as the blade. It punched through the top, and she gave it a savage twist. The dragon reared its head and made a gods awful shriek. M'rassi swung her dagger around and plunged it into the dragon's neck. Torrents of blood flowed from the wound, and the dragon collapsed, succumbing to its wounds.

M'rassi jumped down, stumbling as her foot caught a rock. Onmund caught her as she fell, and hoisted her to her feet.

"It's really dead, then?" Tolfdir said from beside them.

"In all my years, I've never seen such a thing." The Arch-Mage joined them.

M'rassi pulled herself from Onmund's grasp and stepped towards the dragon. She felt the tug on her heart, the same as the dragon from Whiterun.

As everyone watched, the dragon's body started to glow with a burning orange light. As the flesh melted away, M'rassi spread her arms, threw back her head, and accepted the dragon's soul. Threads of bright white light flowed from the dragons body into M'rassi, just as with the dragon at Whiterun. She felt the dragon's experience and knowledge flow into her, becoming one with her. This time was different, though. She didn't know any more words in that strange angular script, and the incoming soul seemed to burn her out, pouring in its general knowledge rather than it's understanding of a single word.

"Dov-Ah-Kiin!" The Shout rolled across the countryside, washing across the College, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The Greybeards called again when they sensed the death of another dragon.

When all that was left of the dragon was its skeleton, M'rassi glowed silvery white for a moment, teetered on her feet, then collapsed to the charred flagstones.

M'rassi stirred, groaning quietly.

"She's coming round."

"Here, drink this!" The Arch-Mage pressed a mug to her lips. The hot tea helped wake her. She tried sitting, but her head whirled. Arch-Mage Aren, Tolfdir and Mirabelle sat around her bed. Onmund and the other apprentices watched from the doorway. Each face was etched with concern.

"Easy, easy. How are you feeling?" Tolfdir asked.

"Like a horse sat on my head. That didn't happen last time. M'rassi hopes this does not happen again." She winced.

"Last time? You've done that before? What happened, what did you do to that dragon?"

"I took it's soul into me. It's part of M'rassi now." She told them.

"But, how?" Aren asked.

"It's a long story." M'rassi told them of everything that happened since she'd arrived in Skyrim. Of the ambush and Helgen. Of Bleak Falls Barrow and the dragon attack on Whiterun. Learning how to Shout and being summoned by the Greybeards. By the time she was finished, everyone wore an expression of pure astonishment.

"That's certainly an amazing story. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen you use the Thu'um or kill that dragon with my own eyes." Aren said.

"This certainly is troubling news, though. Mirabelle, can you fetch that book from the Arcaneum. You know which one." Tolfdir asked.

The Breton soon returned with a book, it was a copy of the book M'rassi found in Helgen Keep, though in much better condition. She never did get around to reading it, the last she'd seen, it had been in a pile on a table in her house back in Whiterun, along with a dozen other books.

Tolfdir flicked through the book. "Covenant of Akatosh... Septims... Amulet of Kings... Reman Cyrodiil... having the dragon blood... Ah-ha! The Dragonborn Prophesy." And he read the passage.

_"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world_

_When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped_

_When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles_

_When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls_

_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding_

_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."_

"By the Nine Divines! It really is happening!" Tolfdir exclaimed, ignoring the ban on Talos. "It's you! You're the Dragonborn! You must go to High Hrothgar! The College can wait."

"Can someone please explain this prophesy?" J'zargo asked from the back.

"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world, could refer to the political turmoil of Tamriel, with the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire warring. Hammerfell and Black Marsh seceding and Morrowind destroyed. It could also refer to the Staff of Chaos and the Imperial Simulacrum, considering the next few passages." Mirabelle said.

"When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped refers to the Warp in the West, almost two hundred and fifty years ago. When Numidium walked Iliac Bay, and all the kingdoms in the region changed in an instant." She added.

"When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles could be the Nerevarine severing the Tribunal from the Heart of Lorkhan. Their powers failed, Almalexia went mad, and Vivec just vanished. No one even knows what happened to Sotha Sil. Red Mountain erupted not long after." Said the Dunmer, Brelyna. Arch-Mage Aren nodded in agreement with his student's observation.

"When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls. This could be the Oblivion Crisis. J'zargo grew up in the shadow of the dragon statue, what used to be Martin Septim." J'zargo added, making the connection on his own. M'rassi glanced sharply at him.

"The last passage 'When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding' clearly refers to the civil war that's raging in Skyrim these days." Tolfdir added.

"The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn, me?" M'rassi asked.

"It seems your path will take you away from the College for the time being. You need to get to High Hrothgar as soon as you are able. You're the only one who can stop these dragons. You must leave as soon as you are able. Being the Dragonborn is a lot more important than being a College mage." Tolfdir told her, Aren nodding solemnly.

M'rassi sighed deeply. One thing after another, she thought. "I'll gather my things, and leave in an hour." She pushed herself from the bed.

"So soon? Are you sure you're up to it?"

"Yes, though any help would be appreciated, food, potions, any books on the subject you think might help."

"Alright, we'll see what we can do." Arch-Mage Aren ushered everyone out of the room, ordering people to fetch various things.

M'rassi busied herself going through her knapsack, discarding anything she wouldn't need. She scooped the junk into her arms and when she turned to shove it into a cupboard she saw Onmund standing there, leaning heavily on the doorframe, expression unreadable.

"So. Dragonborn." He said simply.

"I didn't believe it at first, but after using the Thu'um and taking the dragon's soul today, and hearing Tolfdir read the prophesy, it struck a chord, and deep down I knew it to be true." She stuffed the junk into the cupboard, and slipped some apples into her pack.

"I just can't believe you killed that dragon outside with only a dagger!" He smiled widely.

"Well, everyone else was throwing spells at it as well. Couldn't have done it otherwise." M'rassi grinned back, gathering her potions and adding them to her pack. Faralda came in and handed her a book.

"The Arch-Mage said you're leaving again. He's not told me why, but I'm guessing it had something to do with that dragon. I've written down everything I could think of to help you learn the control you seek."

"Thank you, Faralda."

The Altmer inclined her head regally, then swept from the room.

J'zargo came and thrust some scrolls at her.

"Can you test these for J'zargo? Since you'll be out in the field? It's a flame cloak I've been working in. They should do extra damage to the undead."

"Okay, Clan-mate."

Tolfdir and Mirabelle came back, carrying several books each, with a few potions stacked on top.

"These should help you on your journey."

They helped her cram everything into her knapsack, which was not easy. They escorted her out to the College gates, where the Arch-Mage waited. Onmund trailed behind, joined by J'zargo and Brelyna.

"Good luck on your path. Know that you will always have a place here at the College. We look after our own. Nerevar guide you, M'rassi Dragonborn." Aren bowed.

"Thank you, for everything. I know I wasn't here long, but I swear here and now: I will be back."

"You'd better, I've always wanted to study how the Thu'um works!" Aren laughed.

"I'd better not die then! That would be rude!" M'rassi smirked, eliciting a chuckle from the Dunmer, and she turned away, crossing the perilous bridge before it got dark. She made it across without slipping and tramped down the main road through Winterhold. She heard footsteps running, and saw a shape running after her in the snow.

"M'rassi, wait!" It was Onmund, dashing along the street with a knapsack and bedroll strapped to his back.

"Onmund? What are you doing here?" She said as he caught up.

"Coming with you!" He stopped to catch his breath.

"What about the College?"

"You've got Faralda's book, we can both learn from it."

"What about me being Dragonborn?"

"What about it?"

"Coming with me will be dangerous. You might even die! I couldn't take it if another of... "

"You're my friend! Dragonborn or not, I'm not about to let you go alone! Do you even know how to get to High Hrothgar?"

"No, I figured I'd just ask someone."

"You need a guide. Someone who knows Skyrim. Who knows the land. What's safe to eat in the wild and what could kill you. Plus, I can hold my own in a scrap. Just ask my brothers."

M'rassi started to protest, then stopped herself. He had a point. She didn't know the local plants, and would probably eat something poisonous if she went alone. She huffed and deflated.

"Then it's settled, I'm coming, and I'm not taking no for an answer!" He said, and he strutted past her towards the carriage.

"Fool Nords and their thick-skulled stubbornness!" She grumbled, but didn't really mean it. She was glad for the company.


	6. The Way of the Voice

**Chapter Six: The Way of the Voice.**

M'rassi reluctantly handed Onmund the pouch of gold coins.

"I told you I could get us here." Onmund said, amusement in his voice.

They stood on a hill overlooking a small hamlet called Ivarstead. The collection of a few houses, an inn and a sawmill, with a river rushing down the mountainside reminded M'rassi of Riverwood. However, Ivarstead was not in a thick forest, with only a few scattered silver birch trees, leaves turning golden as the weather got colder.

They'd taken the carriage from Winterhold to Riften, arriving in town in the early hours of the morning as the month rolled from Last Seed to Hearthfire. They decided to walk the rest of the way, taking the south road around Lake Honrich, following the Treva River to Lake Geir. The walk took them all day, and they sighted Ivarstead as the sun began it's slow descent behind the mountain that rose up like a frozen gargoyle about the small town.

The mountain was High Hrothgar, otherwise known as the Snow-Tower or the Throat of the World, and it rose sharply into the clouds, it's peak invisible. Legend had that the very top of the mountain, high up the seven-thousand steps, was only half there, somehow in another world, perhaps even Aetherius itself. M'rassi didn't believe them. It looked like any other mountain, cold and snowy, with a dangerous looking path snaking its way up the mountainside and disappearing behind a rocky crag.

"That you did. Probably best to climb in the morning. I'd hate to fall off that."

"Good idea." Her friend agreed.

They ducked into the inn and paid for a couple of rooms, the innkeeper shooting them a puzzled glance. Why two? They seemed like a nice young couple. They denied it when he asked, answering with some excuse about being colleagues from that fool College up north, that they'd barely known each other for longer than a few days.

They bought some supplies in the morning, including a large bottle of last night's soup. The mountain was mightily cold, and they'd need the nourishment and warmth. They could easily heat it with their magic.

They headed towards the bridge, where an older man was struggling under the weight of a large sack. Apparently he'd made the journey of running supplies to High Hrothgar once a week for many years. M'rassi offered to help him by taking the supplies up there, since she was heading up the mountain anyway. She and Onmund split the load between them and started their ascent.

The steps rapidly grew icy and treacherous as the road climbed upward, and M'rassi soon had her hands tucked into her armpits and her tail wrapped tightly around her waist to keep them warm. Onmund laughed at her chattering teeth, as he happily put up with the cold. M'rassi couldn't tell if it was his own natural immunity, or his Nord stubbornness, or even a combination of the two, that kept him from feeling it. This was even worse than in Helgen! Whatever this High Hrothgar was, it had better have a fireplace, she couldn't take it otherwise.

They passed many stone tablets on their way, some with odd brave souls braving the cold to meditate on the words. M'rassi was too interested in getting inside and getting warm, so she only permitted enough time to stop for Onmund to transcribe the words into his journal before pressing on.

The innkeeper had warned them of wild animals on the mountain before they left and it was almost noon before they saw anything more than wolves.

They passed a bank of snow, built up against the rock by the wind, when a pair of strange skeletal fish-like creatures burst out of it.

"Ice Wraiths!" Onmund shouted, he'd read about them, but never seen one.

One dove at M'rassi, spraying plumes of bitterly cold air at her. She felt the fur inside her clothes begin to freeze as the garments themselves became stiff as wooden planks. She formed a stream of fire with her hands, and tried to hit the odd creature.

The fish-thing was quick and agile, easily dodging her flames. M'rassi had to think of something and fast. She watched the wraith bunch up to charge at her, and when it did, she grabbed it by one frigid spine and holding it in place, she drowned it in fire, its ice-bones melting.

She heard Onmund give a frustrated shout, and she twisted around to find him on his back, struggling with the other wraith which was snapping and biting at his face. He gave it a shove, and when it flew off, he poured his own balefire at the creature. Once it was dead he picked himself up, and they carried on.

They stopped briefly and M'rassi heated the soup with small fire spell that Faralda had written in her book. Warming food with magic was one of the exercises in control. You either focussed on carefully weaving and maintaining the weak spell, or your dinner was incinerated. A good learning technique. Soon they carried on and as the afternoon wore on snow began to fall, gently at first, but eventually it turned into great flurries and gusting wind.

As they neared what they hoped was the top, M'rassi caught a scent in the air. She stopped Onmund, putting a hand across his chest.

"Smell that?" She asked.

"No. What is it?" He asked.

M'rassi took several more sniffs, the frigid air turning her nose numb. It was a smell she knew well, the hills of northern Elsweyr were filled with the creatures.

"Troll."

Carefully they crept forward, trying hard to keep silent, but it was nearly impossible with the snow crunching beneath their boots. They saw the beast, a white shape on a dark grey background.

"Fire." M'rassi whispered, readying her spells.

She counted down on her fingers and then they charged at the man-shaped beast, whooping loudly. The troll whirled around at the noisy things, glaring at them with it's three eyes and snarling.

M'rassi and Onmund both used one of Faralda's spells, focussing their flames into tight jets, which slammed into the troll with more power that with a wide cone. All their practice on the road was starting to pay off. The troll perished quickly, it was well known that they did not like fire.

M'rassi reluctantly peeled back the charred beast's skin. They smelt bad when alive, but even worse when they were dead and half-cooked. Still the fat in their bodies was known for its poison resistance. She couldn't pass up the opportunity.

She hacked at the part-cooked meat and with Onmund's help she exposed the lump of fatty flesh that sat atop the brute's shoulders. Together they scraped it out and mashed the foul glop into the bottle that had contained their lunch, after first washing it out with slushy snow.

By the time they were done, Onmund looked sick. Apparently he'd never harvested troll fat before. It was a messy business but someone had to do it. They got away from the gut-turning stench by climbing the mountain once again.

The snow-storm had turned to a full-blown blizzard by the mid-afternoon. Even Onmund was beginning to suffer from the weather, and the two of them stumbled up the mountain, arms and cloaks wrapped around each other, sharing their body heat. It helped, but they could do nothing about their feet. Hours of hiking through the snow had soaked through the thick leather of their boots, and M'rassi hoped she wasn't getting frostbite.

They passed another stone tablet, and Onmund quickly copied it. M'rassi looked around as he did so, trying to see through the whirling currents of snow. The only reason she knew they were on the right path were the steps that continued ever upward. They had not stopped since they'd started the ascent that morning.

She studied a dark shadow against the sky, almost dismissing it as a rock, when she realised it was entirely too regular. She squinted her eyes, but could not make out anymore detail.

"I think we're here, Onmund." She said to the younger mage, busy stuffing his journal into his knapsack, while trying to keep the snow out.

"Are you sure?"

"Look." She pointed out the outline that she could see, snaking only a fingertip from the cloak pulled tight around her.

"I think you're right."

As they walked, the shape resolved into a massive temple, perched on the mountainside. There was a small platform with a chest with a set of steps leading up either side, around an angular column. At the top of each flight, there was a door, made of iron almost black with age and carved with a stylised monk.

They dropped the supplies into the chest and made their way up to the doors. They pulled apart with a clang, and they quickly ducked inside.

It was dark, but warm, and for this M'rassi was thankful. As she walked into the main hall, she shook the snow that had collected on her, with a quick shake of her head. The twitch followed down the rest of her body until finally her tail gave a flick. Onmund simply brushed it off with his hands.

The chamber was large and forbidding, with many nooks and crannies created by columns carved with odd angles, not unlike the one outside. Candles clustered in bowls were strewn about the room, and a large chandelier lit up the central part of the hall with a bright circle of light. Another split staircase rose up past a small dais to a raised level, with more doors. On this platform stood four men.

Each was dressed in robes of thick dark leather, cut in a similar style to dragon scales. Each wore a hood of black leather, their ancient wizened faces peeking out with interest. Without a word they filed down the stairs to where M'rassi and Onmund waited.

M'rassi stepped forward at their approach, Onmund retreated back, each with their eyes and ears alert. He sat on a carving of a dragon, which had a bowl of candles resting on its snout.

The Khajiit pushed her hood back, ears twitching this way and that, but picked up no other sound than the monks coming toward her. They stood in a semicircle around her and one stepped forward. He looked ancient, face deeply lined, and his knotted beard was silver.

"So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age." He said, almost as if her didn't believe it himself. His voice was rough and husky.

"I'm answering your summons." M'rassi said, bowing her head.

"We will see if you truly have the gift. Show us, Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice."

"Alright. Fus!" She Shouted at the man, bracing her feet.

Her Thu'um rushed forward and he stumbled back, knocking over a large metal vase.

"Unrelenting Force." He whispered. He regained his balance and approached her once again.

"Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar." He told her, his voice solemn. "I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

"I'm answering your summons, Master." M'rassi answered in a respectful tone.

"We are honoured to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfilment of your destiny."

"What destiny?" M'rassi flicked her tail, she didn't like the sound of that.

"That is for you to discover. We can show you the Way, but not your destination."

"I want to find out what it means to be Dragonborn."

"We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you."

"You mean M'rassi is not the only Dragonborn?" She asked, slipping into her old Ta'agra habits in her confusion.

"You are not the first. There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed that gift on mortalkind. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of the age... that is not ours to know. You are the only one that has been revealed thus far. That is all I can say." Arngeir explained.

"So you are the Greybeards Jarl Balgruuf told me of? This is High Hrothgar?"

"Yes. Followers of the Way of the Voice. And yes, this is High Hrothgar, on the slopes of Kynareth's sacred mountain. Here we commune with the sky, and strive to achieve balance between our inner and outer selves."

"I would like to learn more."

"You have shown you are Dragonborn, yes. You have the inborn gift. But, do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out before you? That remains to be seen." Master Arngeir stepped back into the semicircle. "Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power."

M'rassi glanced back at Onmund, who was sitting quietly, watching the scene with intense interest, scribbling into his journal. Arch-Mage Aren would be happy upon their return.

"All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you 'Ro' the second Word in Unrelenting Force."

Arngeir gestured to the man beside him, who looked equally ancient.

"Ro means 'Balance' in the dragon tongue. Combine it with 'Fus' -Force- to focus your Thu'um more sharply." Arngeir said and the other man stepped up to a square paved into the floor.

"Ro." Master Einerth whispered the Shout, and the Word appeared on the floor, burning in fiery gold letters. Onmund snuck forward, copied the word into his book, and retreated swiftly. The Greybeards ignored him, focussed completely on their charge.

M'rassi looked at the word, which didn't make sense at first, then she realised she was looking at it upside down. Giving herself a mental slap she walked around it and the word burned into her mind, just like to one from Bleak Falls Barrow. She expected the second dragon soul to seize the word, but it remained dormant.

"Ro." She said.

"You learn a new word like a master... you truly do have the gift!" Arngeir said, his voice almost surprised. "But learning a Word of Power is only the first step... you must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout." He smiled suddenly. "Well, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly."

M'rassi nodded. Despite the dormancy of the soul of the dragon that attacked the College, she could feel its power and mental wealth, even if it wasn't yet willing to unlock it's secrets. Mirmulnir and Fus must have been special.

"As part of your initiation, Master Eitharth will allow you to tap into his understanding of 'Ro.'" Arngeir said.

Einarth bowed slightly at M'rassi, and he brought his hands up in a gentle sweeping motion. As he did so, silvery white threads, similar to the dead dragons, rose up from his body and flowed into hers.

For a moment they were connected, mind-to-mind, startling M'rassi. For a moment she could se everything about the man, from his lonely childhood on the streets of Riften to his pilgrimage to High Hrothgar, one he'd never left. She felt Master Einarth's amusement at her reaction. His knowledge flowed into her, and she understood the Word 'Ro' and its place in the Shout. When Einarth sensed her understanding, he withdrew from the connection.

M'rassi opened her eyes, and saw Master Einarth smiling at her, she wondered what he'd seen of her. He stepped back into the shadows, and Arngeir addressed her.

"Now let us see how quickly you can master your Thu'um." He said, indicating for her to join the semicircle, facing the square in the floor.

"Use your Unrelenting Force Shout on the targets as they appear. Master Borri, if you don't mind."

Another Greybeard stepped forward.

"Fiik-Lo-Sah!" He shouted, and a spectral version of himself appeared in the middle of the square, before he stepped back.

M'rassi glanced around quickly, the Greybeards were watching her expectantly, and even Onmund had stopped writing fixing his gaze on her.

She braced her feet, holding her tail out for added balance.

"Fus-Ro!" She Shouted, and the spectral Borri stumbled and faded. Her Thu'um certainly felt stronger with the extra word.

"Well done. Again. Einarth?"

"Fiik-Lo-Sah!" Einarth Shouted his own spectral form.

"Fus-Ro!" M'rassi watched the ghostly facsimile of Einarth vanish.

"You learn quickly. Once more. Wulfgar?"

"Fiik-Lo-Sah!"

"Fus-Ro!" M'rassi shouted the last apparition away.

"Impressive! Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise Dragonborn. We will perform your next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri." Arngeir said.

M'rassi hesitated, looking from Master Borri to where Onmund sat, then back again. Borri seemed to understand, beckoning for the Nord to follow, the first time any of the Greybeards had even acknowledged him.

As they followed Master Borri, she heard Arngeir pick up the fallen vase. Borri led them up the stairs and though the back doors, which led out to a large courtyard, hewn out of the mountain. The blizzard had lessened to a steady snowfall, huge flakes wafting down from the darkening clouds. A watchtower stood beside a road leading further up the mountain, beyond which a gale blew, thick with ice and snow. To venture into such a storm spelled certain death. Borri led them down into the courtyard, where they waited for the other Greybeards.

"We will now see how you learn a completely new Shout. Master Borri will teach you 'Wuld' which means 'Whirlwind.'" Arngeir explained when he joined them.

"Wuld!" Borri whispered the Shout, the fiery script burning in the snow.

"You must hear the Word within yourself before you can project it into a Thu'um." Arngeir said, Onmund and Wulfgar beside him.

M'rassi focussed on the word, the letters clearer in her mind. The Word didn't hurt as much as it bored into her skull. Maybe she was getting used to it.

"Approach Master Borri and he will gift you his knowledge of 'Wuld'"

Borri mirrored Einarth's motions, making the connection to her mind with the silver threads. She saw him failing to woo the woman he loved, turning to the Voice in despair and finding purpose. She sensed embarrassment through the bond, and Borri showed her how to use her Thu'um to create a tunnel of air to push her forward. A Whirlwind Sprint. Borri retracted from her mind as she reached the understanding.

"Now we will see how quickly you can master a new Shout." Arngeir said and the six of them walked over to a pair of man-sized columns.

At the edge of the courtyard was a massive metal gate.

"Master Wulfgar will demonstrate Whirlwind Sprint. Then it will be your turn. Master Borri?"

Borri had wandered down to the gate.

"Bex!" He Shouted and the gate flew open.

"Wuld-Nah-Kest!" Wulfgar Shouted, racing though the gate as it shut, stopping inches from the precipice.

"Now it's your turn. Stand next to me and Master Borri will open the gate. Use your Whirlwind Sprint to pass through before it closes."

"Right." M'rassi said, preparing to run. She waited for Borri's Shout.

"Bex!"

"Wuld!"

M'rassi thought it would make her legs move faster, but it was more like a kick in the arse, as she sprinted thought the gate. It clanged shut behind her, missing her tail by centimetres. Wulfgar smiled at her, clearly bemused, before he unlocked the gate manually.

She went back to where Arngeir and Onmund were waiting. Einarth was heading back into the temple.

"Your quick mastery of the Thu'um is... astonishing." Arngeir told her. "I'd heard stories of the abilities of the Dragonborn, but to see it for myself... Come, let's go inside." He gestured for her to follow.

"I don't know how I do it. It just happens." M'rassi shrugged as they came in from the cold.

"You were given this gift by the gods for a reason. It is up to you to figure out how best to use it. You are now ready for your last trial." He showed them into a library, where a fire burned bright in a large hearth.

"Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return."

"M'rassi has many questions, please?"

"No doubt you are full of them, as I was when I first started to learn the Way of the Voice." Arngeir sat in a chair near the fireplace.

M'rassi sat as close as she dared to the fire, still chilled to the bone. Onmund sat beside her, pulling out his journal and quill. Arngeir ignored him.

"Why are the dragons returning? Does this have something to do with M'rassi?" She asked, curling her tail around her friend. Onmund glanced at her in surprise.

"No doubt. The appearance of a Dragonborn at this time is not an accident. Your destiny is surely bound up with the return of the dragons. You should focus on honing your Voice, and soon your path will be made clear."

"Thank you, Master. I will continue my training." M'rassi said. She was almost eager to learn more of this ability, considering her reluctance a few days before. She resolved to seeking out more of these Words of Power.

"Good. Then you will be ready for whatever lies ahead."

"So what else can you tell me about the Greybeards. I know you follow the Way of the Voice, but little else."

"The Way of the Voice was first taught by Jurgen Windcaller, our founder. Very few are permitted to study with us here at High Hrothgar. But in your case, Dragonborn, it is a privilege to guide you towards mastery of your Voice."

"What is the 'Way of the Voice' anyway?"

"The Voice was a gift from the goddess Kynareth, she the Nords call Kyne, the Khajiit, Khenarthi, at the dawn of time. She gave mortals the ability to speak as dragons do. Although this gift has often been misused, the only true use of the Voice is for the worship and glory of the gods. True mastery can only be achieved when your inner spirit is in harmony with your outward actions. In the contemplation of the sky, Kynareth's domain, and the practice of the Voice, we strive to achieve this balance."

They were interrupted by Master Borri who brought three cups of steaming hot tea into the room on a simple wooden tray. He put a spoon of sugar into Arngeir's and looked expectantly at the two sitting on the floor.

M'rassi held up two fingers and Master Borri stirred it into the hot liquid. Onmund had only a single spoon. They thanked him and he smiled, bowing before he left the room.

The tea was nice and sweet, just the way she liked it, though the taste was different without moon sugar. She decided against getting the jar from her pack.

"I will try to follow the Way of the Voice, Master Arngeir." M'rassi said.

"That is commendable. But remember, the Dragon Blood is itself a gift of Akatosh. Do not try to deny that gift. Your destiny requires you to use your Voice - why else would Akatosh have bestowed this power upon you? If you remember to use your Voice in service to the purpose of Akatosh, you will remain true to the Way."

"I will." She could think of one reason why she had the gift but it was preposterous, a stupid story passed down by her family. M'rassi was quiet for a short time, trying to decide which of her many questions was more important.

"So who was Jurgen Windcaller?"

Onmund stirred, he knew the tales after all. Arngeir spoke before him though.

"He was a great war leader of the ancient Nords, a master of the Voice, or Tongue. After the disaster at Red Mountain, where the Nord army was annihilated, he spent many years pondering the meaning of that terrible defeat. He finally came to realise the gods had punished the Nords for their arrogant and blasphemous use of the Voice. He was the first to realise the Voice should be used solely for the glory and worship of the gods, not the glory of men. Jurgen Windcaller's mastery of the Voice eventually overcame all opposition, and the Way of the Voice was born." Arngeir sipped his tea.

"Why are Shouts in the dragon language?"

Arngeir laughed heartily, "Still, more questions! Does nothing sate your appetite? Dragons have always been able to Shout. Language is intrinsic to their very being. There is no difference in the dragon tongue between debating and fighting. Shouting comes as naturally to a dragon as breathing, or speaking. I told you in mythic times, when mortalkind was in great need, Kynareth granted us the ability to speak as dragons do. For most people, long years of training are required to learn even the simplest Shout. But for you, the dragon speech is in your blood, and you learn it almost without effort. What you have learned in a few days took even the most gifted of us years to achieve." He sighed deeply. "Some believe that Dragonborn are sent into the world by the gods, at times of great need. We will speak of that more when you are ready."

"I understand." M'rassi nodded, before asking what she thought was a dumb question. "There are only four of you? I thought there would be more."

"Five, actually. Our leader, Paarthurnax, lives alone on the peak of the Throat of the World. When your Voice can open the path, you will know you are ready to speak to him." Arngeir pushed his aged bones from the chair. "Now, if you have any more questions, please feel free to peruse the library. Maybe that should satisfy you." Arngeir smiled before he left.

"By Alkosh, that's a lot to take in." M'rassi sighed.

"I know, my hand is starting to cramp up." Onmund dropped his quill, and cracked his fingers loudly.

"What do you think of all this?"

"I'm not sure what I think. Half of the things he told you I knew from the old tales, and the other half contradicted them. It just makes me wonder what else is different from what we know."

"It is all new to me. We're not well versed in Nord lore in Elsweyr. If you wanted me to tell you about Rajhin, or Ra'Ra'Ra, or Dro'Zira I could tell you, but this Dragonborn thing? Still it's very interesting, I want to learn more."

"Well, we are in a library. Where should we start?"

"How about Words of Power. Let's see if we can find any records as to where we can find them."

"Sure..." Onmund went quiet, and frowned slightly. "Look, I know you found the first one in Bleak Falls Barrow, but... I'm not so sure we should be going into those places."

"Why not? Not scared of Draugr are you?"

"No. I just don't think we should go rifling through the bones of our - _my_ - ancestors." Onmund told her. "They should be allowed to rest in peace."

"I didn't realise it was so taboo here."

"No, I suppose you didn't. What do you do with your dead in Elsweyr?"

"It depends on many things, really. In Anequina, if the dead person was a close relative or clan-friend, we would bury them under a small cairn of rocks. If not, we put them on platforms for the carrion birds. They practice something similar in Pellitine, the south. Either way, once they're dead they're not them any more. They've journeyed on Khenarthi's path to Arkhaj or joined Azurah in her realm. We say a quick prayer to speed them along the path, but their bodies are worthy of no special treatment. The Sload love Elsweyr for this reason."

"Completely different attitude, huh?" Onmund was realising just how different the Khajiit woman was, and he was intrigued.

"Very. You can always go back to the College if you feel that strongly about it." M'rassi shrugged.

"And let you go alone? Not a chance. I guess I can always try to think of it like the Khajiit do. Hopefully we can learn something while we're at it."

"Good. We'll leave them in peace if they do the same for us. "

"Do you mean... ?"

"Yep, Draugr aren't some folktale. I have the scar to prove it! Just think of it as helping them back to Sovngarde, or wherever it is you Nords go when you die."

"Shor's blood! What have you got yourself into, Onmund?"

They pulled some books down from the shelves and started to flick through them. Unfortunately for M'rassi many were not in Tamrielic and she couldn't read them. Onmund identified the script as an ancient form of the Nordic tongue, and though he didn't recognise some of the words, he got the general grasp of the texts.

They worked late into the night, Master Wulfgar bringing them a light meal. They managed to decipher the locations of a dozen Word Walls, Onmund reading them out and M'rassi writing them down in Ta'agra. Eventually weariness took them and they sank into the chairs by the fireplace to sleep.

They left early the next morning, the blizzard had stopped and the sky was mostly clear. They could see Whiterun on the plains below, the Keep looking like a small jewellery box from this distance. Balgruuf was right, it was very peaceful up here.

As they walked, they came across a boulder that was perched on the edge of the road. M'rassi got an idea.

"Might as well have some fun with this gift of mine." M'rassi smiled.

"Go ahead." Onmund grinned. He could see what she planned.

She braced her legs and held out her tail.

"Fus-Ro!" She Shouted the boulder off the mountain.

It hit the snow several meters down with a loud thunk, and kept rolling and crashing down the mountainside. When it finally came to rest, they looked at each other and cracked up laughing, their guffaws ringing out into the frigid mountain air.

M'rassi hadn't laughed that hard in a very long time.


	7. The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller

**Chapter Seven: The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.**

It took many weeks for the two of them to seek out the Words of Power on the list they had written at High Hrothgar. Using M'rassi's house in Whiterun as a home base, they'd roamed all over Skyrim. Together they killed a few dragons, sometimes aided by the local guards if the dragons attacked near cities. They'd both practiced their magic on the road, quickly gaining in skill and strength. They did the odd job on occasion when they needed the coin for food and supplies.

Onmund found that the first few times they ventured into the burial barrows he was uncomfortable, but thinking on M'rassi's words, he found it didn't bother him as much. Instead he focussed on learning as much as he could about the ancient Nords. M'rassi tried hard to respect his culture, and they only looted from chests in the ruins, leaving the Draugr and burial urns well alone. He was learning combat magic at an astonishing rate, and soon they both had no more need of Faralda's manual.

M'rassi herself found the Words of Power easier to understand the more she learned. She tested each new one out as soon as she learned them, the pair of them getting a kick out of the Throw Voice Shout she learned at Shearpoint in The Pale. What disappointed her was that none of the Shouts she learned was the one dragons used to breathe fire. Maybe one day she'd learn it. She was even getting used to the cold, only suffering when they ventured into the mountains or when the crisp Atmoran Wind blew in from the north.

Their friendship grew stronger over time, each finding solace in their companionship. Like all friends, they laughed, joked, debated and argued. They regaled each other with tales of their youth, recited the old stories of each of their peoples, singing songs in their native tongues.

They even found a dog at an abandoned shack in Hjaalmarch, the unfortunate animal's previous owner had perished, leaving poor Meeko to fend for himself. He'd travelled with them for a time, until he contracted Rockjoint, a particularly painful disease. There was only so much human field medicine could do for the hound, so they left him in the care of Lydia, back in Whiterun. Gods knew the woman needed the company.

It was halfway through Frostfall when they turned their attention to the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Asking around the sodden town of Morthal revealed the location of the ruins somewhere to the northeast. According to the Jarl, Idgrod Ravencrone, it was a hotbed of bandits.

They tramped for hours through dense marsh, their boots squelching. Frogs croaked in the evening air, serenading the dragonflies skimming over the surface of murky ponds. It wasn't the first time they'd hiked across Hjaalmarch Hold, but each time they were bitten by everything. Mudcrabs, leeches, mosquitoes and bitemes, even M'rassi's fur offered no extra protection.

They approached the ruin from the south, wading across a river to find the place marked on their map a battlefield. A group of necromancers had moved into the ruins, and a bunch of bandits took exception to the intrusion.

M'rassi and Onmund crouched low in the ankle deep water, hidden from the fray by a partially rotted log, covered in moss and mushrooms. Only Secunda hung waning in the sky, leaving little light to see by. They watched as the necromancers slaughtered the marauding bandits, slinging spears of ice.

When the last bandit fell and only two of the dead-raisers were left, M'rassi and Onmund burst out from their cover, whooping loudly. They charged at the mages, accompanied by the Nord's Familiar, a spectral wolf.

They tore into them, using their lightning to both electrocute and drain the magicka of the necromancers. One tried to raise the recently slain bandits, but was ultimately unsuccessful, falling to M'rassi's Shouts.

The ruin of Ustengrav was rather unremarkable from what they could see of it. It was a circular structure that rose in waves to a couple of meters above the marsh. There were several columns scattered around, slanting at odd angles as they sank ever slowly into the mushy earth. The centre of the ruin was a perfectly circular pit, with stairs leading down and an ancient iron door.

At the bottom lay the body of a blonde bandit, the unfortunate fool had been killed early on in the fight.

"Trouble, or treasure?" Onmund asked, peering down into the ruin.

"Tonight? Trouble. Tomorrow, treasure! Do you even need to ask?" M'rassi smiled tiredly, eyeing up the bandit's abandoned campsite.

Trouble, or treasure had become a sort of secret code between them. Trouble meant that it was too late to venture into a new cave or ruin, that they should probably rest first. Treasure meant they'd go in anyway; after all, treasure was treasure.

Onmund set a Lightning Rune at the base of the stairs. If anything decided to come out of the ruins and attack while they slept then they'd at least be warned. He sat down beside M'rassi, peeling off his soaking boots.

M'rassi was already pulling leeches from her feet, her own boots by the fire and her lucky dagger beside them. When she was done, she chewed some blue mountain flowers, pressing the pulp into the leech holes to stem the bleeding. No point using magic on something so trivial.

She offered the paste to Onmund when she was done, and walked back to the water. She waded in and waited a few minutes before she pushed her sleeves up and trailed her claws in the water. Her feline eyes could see the faint silvery shape of fish in the pale moonlight, and when one came close enough, a quick flick of her claws sent it onto the bank, where the waiting Nord pounced on it before it could flip back into the water.

Soon they had a pair of fish sizzling away on a hot rock by the fire, salt rubbed into the flesh for seasoning. Onmund had never come across anyone who cooked on rocks, but apparently it was common for the wild cats of Elsweyr. It worked as well as a pan, anyway.

While the fish cooked they joked and teased each other as they prepared some potions from the ingredients they'd collected on the way. They pushed and pulled the bodies away from the campsite, rolling them into the river so the flow would take them out to sea for the horkers. They unravelled their bedrolls, laying them head to head as had become their custom. They often found themselves talking long into the nights, musing over the events of the day, chatting about cultural differences and similarities or discussing the finer points of magic use. After their quick dinner they lay back on their bedrolls, looking up at the night sky.

The aurora was playing in the sky, a magnificent display of pinks and greens, which slowly moved in dazzling curtains across the stars.

"By the Nine, what is that?" M'rassi asked, she'd never seen anything of the like.

"Hmm? That's the aurora."

"Azurah, that's beautiful."

"It doesn't happen often. I always liked to watch it as a boy. Pa always said it was a sign from Sovngarde, that Shor himself was smiling on the land. It's supposed to be good luck."

"Could always use more of that." M'rassi joked.

"I remember reading a book back at the College about it being caused by creatia falling from Aetherius through the stars. That when it hits the skin of Mundus, the mortal realm, it makes the colours."

"Well whatever it is, Shor or creatia, it's still beautiful."

"Almost as beautiful as you." Onmund said boldly, but mentally slapping himself. Mara, he sounded pathetic.

A fox screamed somewhere in the darkness and M'rassi swatted his chest lazily with the back of her hand.

"Ow! What was that for?" Onmund sputtered. It had startled him.

"For being such a flirt!" M'rassi said, her voice amused.

Onmund was mortified and he froze when her heard her shift slightly. She snaked her hand under his chin and he felt something moving across the top of his head, snagging on his hair. It took a few moments for him to realise that she'd licked him.

"What was _that_ for?" He asked.

"For flirting with _me_." Her voice was quiet.

He rolled over to look at her, but she was again lying back looking at the sky, as if nothing ever happened. She had a thoughtful expression in her face, however. Her ears were laid back slightly and her whiskers were on-end, poking out in front of her muzzle instead of their usual position. Her tail was twitching, the only movement aside from the steady rise and fall of her chest.

She didn't say anything for a long time, so Onmund again lay back, returning his gaze to the evanescent lights. Mara, how could he have been so stupid?

"You really think M'rassi is beautiful?" She said eventually.

Onmund smiled, she only really slipped into her Ta'agra habits when she was nervous.

"Of course."

"Even though M'rassi is Khajiit?"

"That just makes you even more beautiful." Gods, he was pathetic.

M'rassi was silent for a long time, then she reached up and stoked his face softly, mindful of her claws.

"Onmund is not bad himself. For one unclawed."

"Liar." He laughed. "I've seen myself in a looking-glass." But he mirrored her motion, gingerly brushing the longer fur on her jaw.

M'rassi chuckled, "It is what's inside that matters."

"Blood and guts?" He joked. He knew what she meant, and was surprised that anyone would say that of him. No one had ever really given him a compliment before, not like this.

"Blood and guts!" M'rassi laughed, knowing he understood. "You Nords and your bloody sense of humour!" She gave him another lick on his head, a quick Khajiiti kiss. They bade each other goodnight, perfectly content with what had passed between them.

For now, it was enough.

A loud crash jerked M'rassi awake.

It was Onmund's Rune spell, set off by some fool necromancer who decided he needed a bit of fresh air. M'rassi jerked out of her bedroll as fast as she could, and ran barefoot to the pit.

One of the dead-raisers was getting to his feet, dazed at the unexpected trap.

M'rassi jumped down, charging a lightning bolt as she dropped. She landed on her feet hard, her tail correcting her balance. She loosed the electricity, and as she was about to charge in the necromancer sprouted an arrow. A second arrow appeared beside it, sticking out of the Altmer's chest.

As the dead man sank to the ground M'rassi spied Onmund with his hunting bow, perched on the rim of the hollow. He might be a mage now, but deep down he was still a farm boy and old habits died hard.

"Nice shot!" She called up.

"I was aiming for you!" He joked.

She poked her tongue at him childishly, the jest comical on her feline face.

Once they'd had a light meal of bread and honey they pulled on their dry boots and gathered their gear. They doused the campfire and pilfered some apples from the dead bandit's meagre supply. It was just staring to rain when they made their way down into the hollow, the soft pattering of the water kicking up the dirt. The smell of petrichor washed over them, a scent M'rassi loved.

They crept down a narrow corridor, and when they came to a large chamber they heard voices. They snuck over to a support column, M'rassi pressing her finger to her furry lips. She pricked her ears at the wall the voices were bouncing off so she could hear them clearly. Onmund listened carefully, but his human ears were weak, only picking out certain words.

"These thralls of yours are slower than Argonians in a blizzard." Said a man's voice disdainfully.

"Feel free to grab a pick and help them out. I prefer not to sully myself with manual labour." Replied a woman, saying the last words as if she was swearing. She sounded merish.

The clang of steel on rock rang out at regular intervals.

"There goes another one."

"Bah. Weak-willed rabble. Even dead they're almost useless."

"They seem less intelligent each time you raise them. If that's even possible."

Onmund and M'rassi smirked at each other. Necromancers.

"As long as they can swing a pickaxe where I tell them, they're as smart as we need them to be."

A faint crash of steel rang out from another passage.

"You hear that? The others must have found something!" The man said, he sounded alarmed.

"We'd better go see," Said the woman. "These can tend to themselves for a few minutes."

M'rassi watched as the black-robed mages disappeared into the side passage. She flicked her tail signalling the coast was clear. They slunk out from the shadows, following the sound of pickaxes.

They found a pair of deceased bandits, enthralled by the necromancer's magic. The poor fools had been dead a few days, and their skin was pale, though the exposed flesh on their legs was almost black from the blood pooling. One of them was partly burned, half the muscle of her arm charred away, the other half hanging in blackened threads, exposing bone.

The other hand clearly been disembowelled at some point, the abdomen was shrunken and hollow. Yet they swung at the rock without any signs of exhaustion, picked chipping away at a vein of iron.

They hadn't noticed the mages creeping up behind them.

M'rassi shot a lightning bolt at the hollow one, who gave a raspy screech as he disintegrated.

Onmund flung his own lightning at the second, staggering her, the pickaxe flying from the dead fingers, embedding itself in the stone. The thrall twisted around with surprising speed, punching him in the face. He stumbled back tripping on a rock. The wind rushed from his lungs when he hit the floor, as the thrall advanced, wielding a sword that had been strapped to her hip.

"You're mine." The dead bandit taunted, voice eerily calm.

"Iis-Slen!" M'rassi Shouted, and Onmund covered his face as the Khajiit streamed a blast of frigid air at the thrall, encasing it in a slab of ice.

"We can't lay about all day, let's go!" M'rassi teased as she hauled him up off the ground.

They crept into the passage where the necromancers had disappeared. They obviously had not felt the re-death of their thralls.

The sound of fighting reached their ears, and they halted. It seemed the Draugr in the tomb were less than pleased to find the necromancers and had attacked.

M'rassi ignored the bodies of a pair of black-robed mages and a Draugr as the sound of fighting got louder.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" Came a raspy Draugr voice, and a Nordic necromancer flew out of the passage around the corner, hitting the wall with a sickening snap.

M'rassi froze, curling her tail around Onmund's leg when the man didn't die. He crawled along the ground, legs dragging limply behind him, whimpering in agony. A Draugr stormed out of the passage and cleaved the mans head from his body, before it noticed the Khajiit and Nord crouched nearby.

"Zun-Haal!" M'rassi Shouted without thinking, and the sword flew from the Draugr's hands.

Before the undead creature could collect it's weapon the mages shot their sparking lightning at it, sending it careening into the wall. M'rassi peeked her head around the corner, the sound of fighting was still going on.

A confusing scene met her gaze. There were three more necromancers. One had summoned a frost atronarch, the titanic mountain of ice slogging away at a Draugr. One of the other dead-raisers had raised a fallen comrade, who had in turn raised a Draugr. The last necromancer was the Altmer woman that M'rassi had heard talking in the entrance hall.

Among them were five Draugr, each Shouting and slashing with their various weapons. Finally a pair of soul gems mounted into the wall were shooting fireballs indiscriminately into the fray. The whole thing had devolved into some sort of battle royale.

The whole thing confused M'rassi and she withdrew her head. Onmund leaned over to look, but she pushed the Nord back, a hand on his chest and shaking her head.

This was one fight they'd stay out of.

After several minutes the sounds of fighting died down, and they could only hear the footsteps of the survivors. Draugr, from the sound of their boots. M'rassi counted down on her fingers and they burst from cover.

"Tiid!" M'rassi Shouted.

Time itself slowed, allowing M'rassi to examine the battlefield and determine the best course of action. Of all the Shouts she'd learned thus far, this one was by far the most useful. She just wished she knew more words to it.

She saw the Draugr, only two of them left now, twist around to face them. Onmund slowly dashed past her, fire flowing from his fingertips. The soul gems in the wall shot their own balls of flame, slowly streaking their way towards her. As M'rassi felt time start to speed up again she took aim.

With precisely aimed bolts of lightning she shattered the soul gems on the wall, their spells dissipating harmlessly. She rapidly added her own fire to Onmund's and together they dispatched the mummified corpses.

"I don't think I like where this is going... " Onmund sighed, eyeing the bodies laying strewn around the chamber. M'rassi snorted in amusement; he always said something along those lines after a particularly strange fight.

They ventured further into the ruins, looting anything that might be useful or worth a bit of coin. They flamed any Draugr they came across, surprising one by luring it into a trap they'd just avoided. Those were the best kills.

After several hours they came to a bend in a corridor, where part of the wall had fallen away. Tree roots had grown across the opening, and an ancient banner flapped lazily in the breeze. Tucked between a rock and a root was a skull, a tankard perched on its head. Between the gaps in the roots they looked down on a massive chamber.

They could see a large platform hewn from the opposite wall. An arch of rock formed a natural bridge across the cavern, disappearing somewhere below them. They could hear a waterfall crashing down, the roar filling the cavern though they couldn't see it.

They carried on through the winding corridor as it slowly meandered around the cavern, finally bringing them out onto a ledge. From here they could see the cave in its entirety. The waterfall cascaded from a crevice high up the wall, sluicing down the stone into a fern-rimmed pool at the bottom. Beside the pool was the tell-tale shape of a Word-Wall, angular script almost readable at this distance.

"By the Nine!" Onmund whispered.

"Aye." M'rassi weaved her fingers though his, and he gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Look, another Wall!" She pointed.

"Let's go!"

They jogged down a natural ramp of stone to the hewn platform when a creaking sound alerted M'rassi.

"Skeletons!" She grinned.

"Excellent!" Onmund agreed.

They charged a ball of electricity in each hand, and when the creaking, lurching figures shambled into view they fired. The skeletons exploded when they were hit by the spells, bones flying every which way. It was very satisfying.

They continued on down the cavern until they reached the bottom. They waded across the knee deep pool and climbed onto the plinth the Word Wall was on.

M'rassi looked at the words carved into the rock, and one called to her. It bored it's way into her skull and was seized by the soul of one of the maddened nameless dragons they'd killed in Eastmarch Hold. The word was 'Feim'. Fade. Forming the first word of the Become Ethereal Shout.

Onmund watched with interest as she traced the letters with her claws almost lovingly.

"So what does this one do?" He asked when she turned back to him.

"Let's find out. Feim!" She Shouted.

Her body became ghostly, her gently swishing tail trailing streamers of pale light.

"Quick, slap me!" She said excitedly.

"Why?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

"Quick, just do it!"

Puzzled, he complied. He was surprised when his hand passed right through her head. She tried to swat him with her tail, the appendage passing harmlessly through his leg.

"I think it's wearing off!" She smiled and her body became corporeal once again.

"Well that's... different." Onmund said, not quite sure what to think.

"I'm sure I can find a use for this." She replied. "Come on, let's find that Horn and get out of here."

"Best idea I've heard all day." He laughed.

They made their way back on to the hewn platform, boots squelching from the water. It hadn't been the best idea in the world, wading through the pool. They crossed the natural stone bridge and found themselves before three smallish pillars, small mounds of rock barely deserving of the name.

As they approached the pillar nearest them glowed with a soft red light and a portcullis raised in a doorway at the far end of the room. After a few moments it closed again. There were a few more of the lattice-like doors behind the first, four in all, and they each raised as M'rassi and Onmund approached one of the pillars, always sinking back down after a few moments.

"I've got this." M'rassi said, working how she could easily get through the puzzle. Onmund watched as she aligned herself with the doors so she could run a path through the stones. She ran as fast as her khajiiti legs would carry her, through the stones, and for a moment all of the gates were raised. At that precise moment she Shouted.

"Wuld-Nah!" And with a flash of grey fur and blue robes she was through the doors. As they clanged shut behind her, she heard Onmund cry out in pain, followed by a crack of thunder and the hollow rattle of bones scattering.

She wrenched a chain hanging from the wall and as soon as the portcullises all raised again she gave another Shout.

"Wuld-Nah!" In an instant she was by the Nord's side.

"Shor's arse!" He howled, clutching an arrow which had passed through his shoulder, though it remained lodged in the wound.

"Here, bite down on this." She fed the folded leather strap of his small apothecary satchel through his teeth, which he obediently clamped down on.

"This will hurt. A lot."

"Just do it!" He growled around the leather, eyes watering from the pain.

With deft movements she snapped off the fletched butt, and pulled the arrow through his flesh by the metal arrowhead. Onmund howled, teeth leaving deep pits in the leather strap.

As soon as the arrow was free, M'rassi pulled open his robes so she could examine the wound. She focussed and wove her magicka into her healing spell, directing it to first seal the openings then repair the damaged flesh. It took several minutes but soon there was nothing left of the injury, except a slightly pinkish scar marring his skin. She released the magic, sagging slightly, sustaining spells for that long always left her tired.

Onmund tested his arm, moving the joint. It barely hurt anymore, thanks to M'rassi's spell. He saw her sag and grabbed her, crushing her to his chest, whispering his thanks. She snaked her arms through his and wrapped her tail around his waist. They held each other for a few moments before Onmund released her.

"Sorry, I didn't see it." He apologised.

"You scared me." She replied quietly.

"I know. I'll try to keep my eyes peeled from now on."

"Good. If anyone is going to use you as a pincushion, it's me!" She joked.

Onmund laughed and they picked themselves up.

"Come on. I think we're getting close."

"Lead on."

M'rassi led him through the passage she opened with the chain and pushed through some cobwebs.

"S'rendarr, I hate spiders!"

They came to a chamber draped with the webs, except for the floor, which was covered wall-to-wall with elaborate tiles. M'rassi pressed her toe on one and a jet of flame shot out of it. From the looks of it, the entire floor was trapped.

"Wuld-Nah!" She Shouted, zipping across the pressure plates avoiding the gushing flames with her speed.

"Hey! No fair! I can't do that!" Onmund shouted from the other side.

"Try using a Fire Ward!"

Onmund charged his Ward spell, weaving the magicka into a shield in each hand which sort of formed a protective bubble. He ran across the plates as fast as he could, the Ward taking most of the damage, but by the time he got to the other side, his boots were ruined.

The corridor that left the room was similarly trapped, though some fallen rubble gave them a few safe havens. They jumped from block to block avoiding the traps and came to another chamber, this one covered with webs, including the floor.

A pair of frostbite spiders spat venom at them, but quickly fell to the mage's flames. M'rassi was about to harvest the venom when a shadow passed over her.

"Fus!" She Shouted at Onmund, without bracing herself. The two of them were pushed back and a gargantuan spider dropped down between them from it's hollow in the ceiling.

When she recovered, she drowned the creature in flame, Onmund pulsing electricity at it. The great beast soon fell, and they moved on, carving though thick webs with fire to reveal a door.

Through it was a short but wide corridor, ending with another portcullis, though this time the chain was on their side. Through the bars they could see a large chamber, full of water except for a causeway which ran from the base of some steps to some kind of altar.

"This is it!" M'rassi said excitedly, and Onmund grinned.

She yanked on the chain, and the portcullis started to rise. As it did so the ground began to shake, the water appearing to boil as four stone-carved dragons pushed up out of the spume. The water continued to run off the statues, dripping softly into the pools below.

"By the Nine! Can we do that again?" Onmund asked, grinning.

They approached the altar hand-in-hand and saw that it was, in fact, a stone sarcophagus. It was intricately carved with dragons and Nordic designs. Daedric script carved into the stone proclaimed the deceased to be one Jurgen Windcaller, the text out of place when compared to the rest of the carvings. Perched atop the sarcophagus was a metal hand holding-

A note.

Wedged into the cleft where the Horn should sit was a scrap of folded vellum. M'rassi grabbed the note and began to read. By the time she was finished her ears were laid back, teeth bared and tail lashing. She was frustrated and angry.

"What does it say?" Onmund asked carefully, he'd seen her mad before, but not this mad.

M'rassi thrusted the note at him and paced up and down in front of the sarcophagus, growling. Onmund unfolded the note and read it.

_"Dragonborn -I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you. -A friend."_

"It's not here?"

"It's not bloody here!" M'rassi growled, her voice low.

The growl rose in volume until it became a full-throated roar of frustration, loud enough to rival that of the sabre cats that stalked the lowland hills of Skyrim.


	8. A Blade in the Dark

**Chapter Eight: A Blade in the Dark.**

M'rassi had calmed considerably over the last couple of days.

They'd hiked back to Morthal from Ustengrav, hiring a carriage to take them to Whiterun as fast as they could. The fastest route was the mountain pass through Labyrinthian, but there'd been whispers of strange goings on in those parts and the driver was reluctant to go that way. The clink of gold coin soon changed his attitude. They stopped in Whiterun only long enough to check on Lydia and Meeko, change into clean clothing and have a hot meal.

They arrived in Riverwood late in the afternoon. A light flurry of snow was falling, a light dusting to coat the buildings as winter started to settle in. They climbed up to the door of the Sleeping Giant Inn, and slipped into the warmth. There was a bard strumming on a lute singing Ragnar the Red in a corner. The innkeeper was leaning heavily on the counter and his wife was sweeping the floor with a coarse broom.

The man behind the bar waved them over to his wife when they enquired about a room. She was the one who handled that end of the business; he just handled the food and booze.

She was a Breton of about fifty years, perhaps more, lines just starting to etch her face. She had long blonde hair pulled back into a rough ponytail and hard blue eyes. She wore a simple outfit that consisted of a blue dress with a brown bodice. According to her husband, Orgnar, her name was Delphine.

"We'd like to hire the attic room if we may?" M'rassi asked her.

"We don't have an attic room." She looked confused, shooting a puzzled glance at the Nord mage before looking back at M'rassi. "You can have the room on the left if you like?" Her voice was oddly familiar though M'rassi had never stayed here before.

"Alright." M'rassi agreed.

They dropped their gear in their room, and Onmund went in search of food. He soon returned with two bowls of thick venison stew and some mead. It wasn't the best stew they'd had, but it was still better than anything they'd eaten on the road.

After they'd finished eating M'rassi started pacing up and down the room.

"I don't like this... " She said, tail flicking in worry.

"I know. But this 'friend' might know where the Horn is." Onmund replied, sitting cross-legged on the narrow cot.

"I know, but I still don't like it." She continued to pace back and forth.

Onmund tried to grab her tail, but it flicked out of reach. He tried again when she came back but again it flicked at the wrong time. On his third attempt he saw she was smiling at him, ears slightly back in a relaxed position.

She was toying with him.

He lunged and grasped the soft fur between his fingers, giving it a gentle tug. She quickly whipped it out of his hand then swatted him gently on the shoulder with it, and they both laughed. He caught her hand and gave it a quick squeeze, just as someone knocked in the door.

"Yes?" M'rassi called, curling her tail around Onmund's arm when he dropped her hand.

The door swung open to reveal Delphine, the innkeeper's wife. She stepped in and hastily shut the door behind her. M'rassi folded her arms and looked at her expectantly. Delphine again looked at Onmund as if puzzled by his presence, but shrugged.

"So you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about. About time you showed up. I think you're looking for this." She held out an instrument made from a black ram's horn, curved and ridged. Its mouthpiece was made of silver, and the slightly flared bell was also silver, richly decorated with Nordic dragons. It was the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.

"How did you get this?" M'rassi hissed, taking the horn from her and clutching it tightly.

"We need to talk," Delphine said simply. "Follow me."

Reluctantly they followed her across the now empty common room to another larger room with a tall wardrobe.

"Shut the door." Delphine told them, and Onmund obliged as he came through.

Delphine opened the wardrobe, pushed aside the clothes and released a catch. The back of the wardrobe slid aside revealing a hidden passage. She led them downstairs to a small room. There were weapon racks along the walls, all full. A large chest was on one side and a bookshelf with a few tattered tomes placed haphazardly on the shelves. In the middle of the room was a table, more books scattered across it as well as a map of Skyrim that looked oddly familiar.

Suddenly M'rassi realised. This was the mysterious woman that was with Farengar when she returned from Bleak Falls Barrow. The map on the table was a rubbing of the carved Dragonstone. There were extra marks in red ink in The Rift Hold.

Delphine walked around the table, resting her hands on either side of the map. "Now we can talk." She sighed.

M'rassi and Onmund remained across from the table, arms folded, waiting for Delphine to explain. M'rassi had curled her tail around the Nord's ankle, ears pointing at the Breton.

"The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn. I hope they're right." Delphine said.

"You're the one who took the horn?" M'rassi asked.

"Surprised? I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act." She laughed bitterly.

"So what's with all the cloak and dagger?"

"You can't be too careful. Thalmor spies are everywhere."

"You'd better have a good reason for dragging me here." M'rassi said suspiciously.

"It was the only way I could make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap," She sighed. "I am not your enemy. I already gave you the Horn. I'm actually trying to help you. Just hear me out."

"This ought to be good." Onmund shot, and M'rassi nodded.

"Like I said in my note, I hear you might be Dragonborn. I'm part of a group that's been looking for you... well, someone like you, for a very long time. If you really are Dragonborn, that is. Before I tell you any more, I need to be sure I can trust you."

"How do I know I can trust you?" M'rassi emphasised the last word, laying her ears back.

"If you don't trust me, you were a fool to walk in here in the first place." The Breton growled.

"Fair point. So why did you take the horn from Ustengrav?"

"I knew the Greybeards would send you there if they thought you were Dragonborn. They're nothing if not predictable. When you showed up here, I knew you were the one the Greybeards sent, and not some Thalmor plant."

"Okay then, so why are you looking for a Dragonborn?"

"We remember what most don't - that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragon slayer. You're the only one who can kill a dragon permanently by devouring it's soul. Can you do it? Can you devour a dragon's soul?"

"Yes, I've seen her do it with my own eyes." Onmund told her.

"I absorb some kind of power from dragons, yes. Beyond that I can't say." M'rassi lied.

"This no time to play the reluctant hero." Delphine saw right through the lie. "You either are or aren't Dragonborn. But I'll see for myself soon enough."

"Wait a minute, you said the Thalmor are after you?"

Onmund felt her tail tighten on his leg, he knew how she felt about the damned Elves. He felt exactly the same.

"Yes. We're very old enemies. And if my suspicions are correct, they might have something to do with the dragons returning. But that isn't important right now."

"So what is it that aren't you telling us?" Onmund asked.

M'rassi flicked her ear at him, she'd been about to ask exactly the same thing.

"Dragons aren't just coming back. They're coming back to life. They weren't gone somewhere for all these years. They were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life. And I need you to help me stop it." Delphine explained.

"So how do you know dragons are coming back to life?" M'rassi tilted her head, ears forward once again.

"I know they are. I've visited their burial mounds and found them empty. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life." She pushed the map over. "We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"You were in Whiterun, with Farengar. That Dragonstone I got from Bleak Falls Barrow, it was a map of these burial mounds? That's why I had to go into that gods-forsaken hole? So you could see if the mounds were intact?" M'rassi asked.

"Precisely. I've looked at which ones are now empty and the pattern is clear. It seems to be spreading from the southwest, down in the Jeralls near Riften." She pointed at the red marks on the map. "This one is next if the pattern holds."

"That's Kynesgrove. My grandmother ran the inn there many years back." Onmund said, he and M'rassi leaning over the map.

"There's an ancient dragon burial near there. If we get there before it happens, maybe we'll learn how to stop it." Delphine proposed the idea.

"Alright, let's go kill us a dragon." M'rassi nodded curtly.

"I need to get into my travelling gear. Give me a minute and I'll be ready."

"We need to get our gear as well. We'll meet you in the common."

Delphine nodded.

Once back in their room M'rassi shut the door and leaned heavily against it.

"Oh gods," She sighed. "Alkosh, why me?"

Onmund simply took her into his arms and held her, chin resting gently on the top of her head. She relaxed, letting him hold her. They'd had little time to sort out their feelings for each other since Ustengrav and now it seemed they were being swept along by things beyond their control. Again.

"We should go." M'rassi said reluctantly into his clothes.

Onmund sighed deeply. "Okay." He whispered.

They heaved their knapsacks onto their backs and waited in the common room. She took the chance to tie the Horn to her belt.

"Orgnar, I'm travelling. You have the inn until I get back." They heard Delphine's voice come from another room.

She soon joined them, wearing the same padded leather armour she had in Whiterun, a long thin Akaviri katana strapped to her hip. She had a bow and quiver made of Morrowind glass, a naturally occurring substance native to the ruined province and very rare in the Empire these days.

"Let's go."

They left the inn, heading out into the cold once again. The snowfall was thicker and it was dark now. The three of them pulled up their hoods against the chilly night air.

They headed north out of Riverwood, they followed the White River as it flowed towards Whiterun then turned east. For hours they ran and at day break they crossed the White River at Mixwater Mill, where it was joined by the Darkwater River. By midmorning, they'd followed it north to Windhelm, home of the Stormcloaks, and somewhere they'd managed to avoid so far.

They ate on the run, munching on apples and dried meat from their packs, gulping down stamina potions when they needed the energy. None of them was accustomed to running through the night.

At Windhelm they turned south and at a bell after-noon they turned up a dirt track.

"This is Kynesgrove. The inn has a nice dark ale. Got nothing on the Sleeping Giant, though." Delphine said as the inn came into view.

Something was amiss though, the birds weren't singing and a dog tied to a tree was barking endlessly. M'rassi pulled back her hood so she could hear better.

"Wait, something's wrong." Delphine warned.

They slowed to a trot as a woman raced down the track to them. She was wild-eyed with fear.

"No! You don't want to go up there! A dragon... it's attacking!" She shrieked.

"Where is this dragon?" M'rassi asked, gripping the woman's arms in an attempt to calm her. It worked, but only a little.

"It flew over the town and landed on the old dragon burial mound! I don't know what it's doing up there, but I'm not waiting around to find out!" She took off down the track as if her arse was on fire.

"Come on, hurry. We might be too late!" Delphine raced past the in and up the hill.

Even here it was snowing, coming down in thick sheets, the wind non-existent for a change. They followed the track and as they crested the hill the dragon came into view.

It wasn't just any dragon. It was the great black dragon that attacked Helgen!

M'rassi felt her knees grow weak, terror flooding her body as she watched the creature that had both saved her life, and set her on this dreadful path, hover over the mound, buffeting them with great down strokes of its wings.

Onmund saw her body language change completely. She looked terrified, not the intrepid woman she usually was. He threaded his fingers through hers, and she held onto them with a vice-like grip.

"Lorkhan's eyes! Look at that big bastard! Keep your head down, see what it does!" Delphine hissed.

"Sahloknir! Ziil gro dovah ulse." The black dragon was saying, its voice deep and malevolent.

M'rassi quailed at the sound of it, dragging up all the terror of Helgen. Her ears were laid flat against her skull and her tail was unusually rigid.

"Slen-Tiid-Vo!" The black dragon Shouted at the burial mound with a crack of thunder.

"This is worse than I thought... " Delphine whispered.

Mrassi flicked an ear in her direction momentarily but did not take her eyes off the draconic figure flapping above.

A loud boom reverberated and the ground shook. The earth in the middle of the burial mound gave a mighty heave, and a massive wing thrust itself into the snowy air.

With a roar, the dragon entombed in the mound clawed its way free of its prison. It pulled itself out of the earthy pit, dragging itself towards the black dragon. With a mighty shake of it's shoulders it sent the soil clinging to its body in all directions. Underneath, it's scales were the colour of brass. It looked up at the black shadow, twisting its great neck.

"Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?" It spoke with a deep voice, but not as deep as the black dragon's.

"Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir." The black dragon replied.

Then both dragons turned their heads to M'rassi, their draconic eyes scrutinising her. It felt like their gaze was boring right into her very being.

"Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi." The black dragon addressed her directly. When M'rassi did not reply it gave a great snort, blowing hot air from it's nostrils at her.

"You do not even know our tongue do you? Such arrogance, to dare take the name of Dovah." It taunted in clear Tamrielic before it twisted its great head back to the brass-scaled dragon.

"Sahloknir, krii daar joorre!" The black dragon growled.

It soared off, heading north before swinging round and disappearing over the Velothi Mountains to the southeast.

The brass-scaled dragon bunched it's mighty legs and with a great sweep of its wings launched itself into the sky. With a roar it swooped around and came at them.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" It Shouted a wall of flame across the road down to Kynesgrove, setting trees ablaze.

The three of them dived out of the way as he made the pass and banked around the trees. Delphine drew her sword and the mages readied their magic as the brass dragon swooped low, buffeting with the wind of his passing. He turned sharply and flared his wings.

M'rassi froze as the talons descended, still in shock from the sudden reappearance of the black dragon. But this was no time to worry about that, she had the brass dragon to worry about. Steeling herself she jumped back, as the dragon handed with a heavy thud, wings kicking up whirls of snow.

"I am Sahloknir! Hear my Voice and despair!" The dragon taunted, pulling itself toward her.

M'rassi back-pedalled, flinging her pack behind a boulder, hoping to the Nine Divines that her potions didn't smash. She flung lightning at Sahloknir, and the dragon growled low as it struck.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" Sahloknir Shouted, and the Khajiit lithely avoided the flames.

Another bolt of lightning hit the brute as he took flight once more.

"I'll gladly kill you myself!" Onmund yelled at it.

Delphine switched to her bow as Sahloknir swooped low again loosing the gleaming green arrows at the brass-scaled dragon.

The dragon flared his wings again, but didn't land, opting to hover the same way the black dragon had. The mighty stokes of his wings pushed the air in a funnel, forcing M'rassi back to avoid the stinging snow.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!"

"Fus-Ro!" M'rassi Shouted back, but her Thu'um only managed to push aside Sahloknir's head aside, the torrent of flame gushing harmlessly into the pine trees.

Sahloknir snorted in amusement.

"Dovahkiin! Your Voice is no match for mine!" He taunted, ignoring the arrows piercing his hide as well as the bolts of lightning flung as him by both mages.

Delphine watched as the dragon flew off, snow churning in its wake. There was no way they could take it down while it could fly. She quickly formulated a plan.

Sahloknir pulled around, slamming into the ground once again. He snapped at the Khajiit, narrowly missing as she leapt backward. She dived behind a rock, sucking down a magicka potion she'd had in her pocket.

"Hiding will not save you!" The dragon let out a strange huffing sound that might have been a laugh. He pulled back his head.

Onmund see the dragon about to Shout again, but he was on the wrong side of the beast from the feline. With a yell he charged at Sahloknir's tail, latching on and pouring all his magicka into the beast with a current of sparks.

That got the dragon's attention. With an almost lazy flick he sent the Nord sailing into the snow-covered bushes. He pulled himself around to face the mage.

"I see that you mortals have grown arrogant while I slept. Fo-Krah-Diin!" Sahloknir Shouted, this time a blast of icy air swept across the field.

Onmund quickly threw up a Ward as M'rassi leapt out from behind her rock, lightning flashing from her fingertips.

At that moment Delphine leapt at the dragon's leathery wings. Drawing her sword once again she tore great rents in the soft skin.

The dragon howled in pain, dislodging her with a flick. The hook-like claw that was the equivalent of the dragon's thumb caught her as she fell, tearing open her sword arm. She slammed into the ground, dirt and pine needles filling her mouth.

With a roar, Sahloknir took flight once again, but his wing was ruined and he couldn't catch the air. He tumbled from the sky.

M'rassi saw him come down, heading straight at her. He crashed into the ground unceremoniously, tearing a great furrow from his passage. It was too late for the Khajiit to move, so she reacted with instinct.

"Feim!" She Shouted, and Sahloknir passed harmlessly through her ghostly body.

Sahloknir came to rest by the hollow that had imprisoned him for almost five-thousand years, snapping the delicate finger bones of his good wing. Fist-sized globules of blood dripped from his many wounds and he was breathing heavily. He pushed himself up, huffing again.

"It's to be a real fight, then! Good!" He slashed his teeth at Onmund, who'd picked himself out of the bushes and rejoined the fight.

The Nord shot a bolt of lightning into the dragon's gaping maw, stunning it momentarily. But the dragon did not give up easily. He bashed the man with his snout, enjoying the way the mortal flailed his arms as he fell. He pinned him with the claw from his broken wing and opened his mouth wide.

"Hey! Jekosiit!" M'rassi shouted.

Sahloknir whipped his head around.

"Fo-Krah!" She Shouted, her icy Thu'um slammed into the dragon's head, and Sahloknir went down, toppling almost comically into the dirt.

"Your Voice is strong... for a mortal... " He growled. He was finished and he knew it. He hoped they would end it quickly.

M'rassi took her lucky dagger and slit his throat, blood pouring from the gaping wound. She felt his soul flow onto her, the silvery threads playing across her fur. Sahloknir. Phantom-Sky-Hunt. She felt him seize a Word she'd learned at Bonestrewn Crest in Eastmarch, several miles to the southwest. He poured his knowledge into it, and M'rassi understood the final word of her Frost Breath Shout. Fo-Krah-Diin.

A memory of the black dragon forced its way into her mind, and she felt her found her fear returning. That bastard had been here. Waiting for her. When he'd looked at her it had felt like he was looking into her very soul, and she started shaking with fright. It didn't matter if he was gone now. All that mattered was that he knew her. He knew her. He'd looked into her soul and seen her for what she really was. And that terrified her more than anything else ever had.

She sagged to the ground, tears running down her furred face. Her ears laid back and her brow knotted in anguish. Her eyes rolled wildly, pupils thin slits. She was whispering softly in Ta'agra, her native tongue, pleading with the gods. She remained ignorant of the frosty air and the silent pleas of her tail for warmth. She heard someone skidding on the dirt and Onmund was there, holding her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Oh, Onmund!" She wailed. "It was him! The dragon from Helgen!"

"It's okay! It's okay... He's gone now." He whispered, pulling her trembling body to him.

She wilted into his embrace, clinging to him as she wept her fear away, tail curling automatically around his warm waist. He simply held her, resting his cheek on the top of her head, stroking her mane which was mostly loose from its many bindings. Her ear flicked repeatedly as his warm breath washed over it but she didn't notice. Slowly he felt her relax, the tears drying up.

Suddenly he felt her freeze again. He pulled back, hands on her shoulders.

"What is it?"

"Delphine. She was hurt." M'rassi said, twisting her head to look.

They found the Breton nursing her shredded arm leaning against a rock. She seen everything. The death of Sahloknir, M'rassi absorbing his soul and her vulnerability afterward. Her pain had kept her from hearing much, a low roaring in her ears.

"Gods above!" She winced in pain. "You really did it."

"Shh. Save your strength." M'rassi shushed her, examining the serious injury. If it wasn't healed straight away, Delphine would lose the arm.

The claw had cut open her arm from wrist to shoulder. The skin and muscle were badly torn, and M'rassi could see the white gleam of bone. The gauntlet she'd been wearing had torn clean off, the straps grazing her. The wound was bleeding slowly, the cold air constricting the blood vessels and stemming the flow of the vital fluid. Still, Delphine had lost a lot of blood.

"I'll need your help." M'rassi looked to the Nord crouched across from her, his eyes were worried.

Together they undid the straps and removed Delphine's padded leather armour. They peeled it from her body, exposing her pale white skin to the elements. M'rassi pulled the warm goat hide from her bedroll over her and gave her something to bite down on before she and Onmund set to work on the ruined arm.

Together they weaved their magicka, working to close the wound. They twined the threads of their spells and the muscle began to knit back together, covering the bone.

Every mage had their own unique fingerprint in their magic, even though it all came from the same place, Aetherius. As magic was inherently tied to the mage using it, this gave the magic it's own unique flavour. Mages didn't often thread their magic together like this, it was considered something very intimate, but for serious injury it was necessary. Onmund's magic smelled like pine and frost and felt comforting to M'rassi. She had no idea what her own smelled like to him, and she'd never thought to ask.

After the skin flowed back together, leaving only a pink scar running the length of Delphine's arm, they both sagged, leaning on one another in exhaustion. Delphine tested her arm, and finding it healed and able to move freely, she pulled her armour back on.

"I owe you some answers, don't I?" She said.

M'rassi simply looked at her tiredly. She'd not slept since the ride to Whiterun the day before, and now the healing had drained her of the last of her strength.

Delphine sighed.

"Come. Let's see if the keeper left the inn unlocked."

They three of them retrieved their gear and tramped back down the hill to Kynesgrove, each supporting each other through their weariness and blood-loss. They were in luck; the inn had indeed been left unlocked by the fleeing woman.

They helped themselves to some mead and cold meat, leaving a pile of coins on the counter. They then sat by the fire, slowly warming their aching bones.

"Alright. Go ahead. Whatever you want to know. Nothing held back." Delphine leaned forward in her chair.

"So, who are you, and what do you want with me?" M'rassi asked, feeling better with food in her belly. She pinched some moon sugar from her jar, licking her fingers.

"I'm one of the last members of the Blades."

"The Emperor's old bodyguards? I thought you were wiped out centuries ago, after Martin Septim died." Onmund queried.

"Not quite. It's true that we don't serve the Mede dynasty, so they set up the Penitus Oculatus. But that's not important right now. A very long time ago, the Blades were dragon slayers, and we served the Dragonborn, the greatest dragon slayer. For the last two hundred years, since the last Dragonborn Emperor, the Blades have been searching for a purpose. Now that dragons are coming back, our purpose is clear again. We need to stop them."

"I've never heard of the Blades before." M'rassi said, surprising Onmund.

"I'm not surprised. The Thalmor killed every Blades agent in the Aldmeri Dominion, including the client states of Elsweyr, some thirty odd years ago, before the Great War. From what I hear they've brutally suppressed all information about them." Delphine sighed. "We used to be widely known across Tamriel as the protectors of the Septim Emperors. Those days are long gone, though." Delphine rubbed her face with the palms of both hands, as if trying to banish her weariness. "For the last two hundred years, we've been searching for the next Dragonborn to guide and guard, as we are sworn to do. But we never found one. Until now."

M'rassi shifted uncomfortably under Delphine's gaze.

"So what do you know about the dragons coming back?" She asked, her tail curled around Onmund's waist giving a twitch.

"Not a damn thing. I was just as surprised as you to find that big black dragon there."

"I've seen that dragon before." M'rassi gave an involuntary shudder.

"Really? Where?"

"It was the same one that attacked Helgen. When Ulfric escaped the Imperials."

Delphine sat back in her chair, expression thoughtful.

"Interesting. Same dragon... " Suddenly she leaned forward again. "Damn it! We're blundering around in the dark here! We need to figure out who's behind it all!"

"So what's the next move?" M'rassi asked.

"As I said, we need to find out who's behind it all. The Thalmor are our best lead. If they aren't involved, they'll know who is."

"Now I _really_ don't think I like where this is going." Onmund whispered to M'rassi, his voice low. She swivelled an ear at him and huffed softly, she completely agreed. She gave him a quick squeeze with her tail.

"So what makes you think the Thalmor are behind it all?"

"I don't have anything solid. Yet. But my gut tells me it can't be anybody else. The Empire had captured Ulfric. The war was basically over. Then a dragon attacks, Ulfric escapes, and the war is back on. And now the dragons are attacking everywhere, indiscriminately. Skyrim is weakened, the Empire is weakened. Who else gains from that, but the Thalmor?"

"So we need to find out what the Thalmor know about the dragons." M'rassi sighed. "I know I'm going to regret asking, but... any ideas?"

Delphine thought for a moment, before answering. "It we could get into the Thalmor Embassy... it's their centre of operations in Skyrim... Problem is that place is locked up tighter than a miser's purse. They could teach me a few things about paranoia... " She smiled bitterly.

"Oh gods, you're not seriously considering breaking into the Embassy? That's suicide!" Onmund blanched.

"Even if it's the only option, how do you propose we get in there?" M'rassi laid her ears back in concern.

"I have a few ideas, but I'll need some time to pull things together... Meet me back in Riverwood. If I'm not there, I won't be long. If you're not, I'll send word to your Housecarl." Delphine pushed herself from the chair.

"Are you sure you ought to be travelling so soon? You lost a lot of blood back there." M'rassi asked when Delphine swayed on her feet.

"I've been through much worse than this." Delphine straightened herself. "Trust me, it will be better for all of us if I get back to Riverwood quickly."

"At least get the carriage from Windhelm. It won't do anyone any good if you collapse on the way." M'rassi countered.

"Alright." Delphine relented, touched by the Khajiit's concern. "Keep an eye on the sky. This is only going to get worse." She said tossing them a key and striding from the building.

They remained silent for a few moments, trying to take in all that had happened.

"So, what now?" Onmund asked eventually.

"First, we get this to High Hrothgar." M'rassi answered, patting the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, still strapped to her belt.

M'rassi wordlessly presented the Horn to Master Arngeir, who sat meditating in the courtyard of High Hrothgar. He seemed oblivious to the snow whirling about him, even as M'rassi and Onmund both pulled their winter cloaks tight.

"Ah! You've found the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Well done. You have now passed all the trials." The Horn disappeared into the folds of his robes and Arngeir pulled himself to his feet.

"Come with me, it is time to formally recognise you as Dragonborn." He led them back inside out of the cold. "You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force, 'Dah,' which means 'Push.'" He led them to the main hall where the other Greybeards waited at three of the four points of the tiled square. Without directly acknowledging him, Arngeir pointed to a spot for Onmund to wait. Somewhere he would be safe from what was to come.

"Dah." Master Wulfgar whispered the Shout, and the word appeared in the familiar fiery script.

M'rassi stood in the middle of the square to read the word and Master Arngeir took up his position at the last corner.

"With all three words together, this Shout is much more powerful. Use it wisely." He cautioned as the word seared itself into M'rassi's mind. "Master Wulfgar will now gift you with his knowledge of 'Dah.'"

Wulfgar spread his arms wide and with silvery threads connected his mind to M'rassi's. Through the connection she saw the egotistical noble's son he used to be, humbled by his pilgrimage, finding a grounding force in the Voice. Wulfgar gently pushed her away from his memories and flooded her mind with his knowledge of the word, Dah. When he sensed her understanding he severed the connection, glancing at the Khajiit with something akin to amusement.

M'rassi bowed respectfully.

"You have completed your training, Dragonborn. We would Speak to you." Arngeir said from behind her. "Stand between us and prepare yourself. Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready."

M'rassi complied, standing in the center of the square. She braced her legs and laid her ears back, bowing her head.

As one, the four Greybeards raised their arms, the sleeves of their robes falling to their elbows and they began to speak. As they did so, it seemed that the whole mountain shook, dust falling in them from between the stonework.

"Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau. Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth. Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok."

When they finished, M'rassi was down on one knee, hands on the floor, pushed down as the Voice of the Greybeards assailed her. Her eyes were clenched shut, whiskers drooping. A small amount of blood trickled from her nose and laid-back ears. Slowly she got to her feet, every bone in her body aching. Aside from that she was relatively unhurt.

"Dovahkiin. You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and come through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you." Arngeir bowed to her.

M'rassi bowed back before looking for Onmund.

The Nord mage was curled in a foetal position in the corner. His eyes were squeezed shut, and blood dripped from his nose. More dripped from his ears, staining his braids. His arms were wrapped around his knees and he whimpered softly, head tucked down.

M'rassi gently took his shoulder and worked her healing magic on him. He looked up at her as she worked, eyes filled with pain. The Voice had affected him far worse than her, though he'd not stood in the square, a fact which likely saved his life. If M'rassi had not been Dragonborn, the ceremony would probably have killed her, and rather messily.

Onmund helped heal her own minor injuries quickly before she helped him up. Arngeir watched in silence, his expression serene.

"Master Arngeir, what was that ceremony about? You were Shouting at me." M'rassi asked.

"We spoke the traditional words of a greeting to a Dragonborn who has accepted our guidance. The same words were used to greet the young Talos, when he came to High Hrothgar, before he became the Emperor Tiber Septim."

"And what did you actually say?"

Angier smiled warmly. "Ah, I sometimes forget you are not versed in the dragon tongue as we are. This is a rough translation: 'Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it to you now in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old. You are Ysmir now, Dragon of the North, hearken to it.'"

M'rassi bowed her head, this was something she'd have to think on, but later.

"I would like to learn more of the Voice."

"You have learned so much already Dragonborn. Much more than when we saw you last. But growing your gift too quickly would be dangerous. But there are many Words of Power in Skyrim, carved in the dragon tongue. Even from here, we can feel the Thu'um resonate from them. Finding these lost Words would be a sufficient test, to temper your abilities with experience. Give me your map. I'll show you where the echoes of Words can be found."

M'rassi unfolded the map on the floor. Arngeir hunched over the map and marked a dozen places in red ink.

"We have felt whispers of Words in these locations." He said as he worked.

He blew on the ink to dry it faster then handed the folded map back to M'rassi.

"Thank you, Master Arngeir."

"Sky above, Voice within."


	9. Diplomatic Immunity

**Chapter Nine: Diplomatic Immunity.**

Delphine was pacing up and down the common room of the Sleeping Giant inn when M'rassi and Onmund walked in. Snow dusted their head and shoulders which they promptly brushed off. She watched them sip down some warm mead for a few minutes and when she was certain they weren't followed, she went over to them. You couldn't be too careful with what she planned.

"I don't think you were followed," She said, casting once last glance around the mostly empty room. "Come on, I've got a plan. You're not going to like it."

M'rassi and Onmund glanced at each other worriedly, but followed without comment. Once down in the secret room, Delphine took a deep breath and turned to them.

"I've figured out how we're going to get you into the Thalmor Embassy."

"You're not going?" M'rassi asked.

"No. And neither are you." Delphine told Onmund.

"Now, wait one damned min-" Onmund blurted before Delphine cut him off.

"That would be a bad idea." She planted her fists on her hips, silencing the Nord. "I'd be too likely to attract the wrong kind of attention. But they don't know about you at all, yet. Besides, your friend here could wreck everything. He stays."

M'rassi curled her tail around Onmund's thigh, hoping to calm him. It didn't work much. He folded his arms and glared at the insane Breton.

"So what's your plan? How do I infiltrate the Embassy?"

"The Thalmor Ambassador, Elenwen, regularly throws parties where the rich and connected cozy up to the Thalmor. I can get you into one of those parties. Once you're inside the Embassy, you get away and find Elenwen's secret files." Delphine told them.

Onmund could now see why he couldn't go. M'rassi's safety relied on her cover, and with him there it might blow the whole thing apart. As much as he was loathe to leave her, she would be safer without him for this one. He sighed and dropped his hands, but kept his glare on the crazy woman.

"I have a contact in the Embassy. He's not up for this kind of high-risk mission, but he can help you. His name is Malborn. Wood Elf, plenty of reason to hate the Thalmor. You can trust him. I'll get word for him to meet you in Solitude, at the Winking Skeever - you know it?"

M'rassi shook her head.

"I do." Onmund said. He could get her there at least. He'd been to Solitude a couple of times as a boy.

"While you doing that, I'll work on getting you an invitation to Elenwen's little party. Meet me at the Solitude stables after you've arranged things with Malborn. Any questions?"

"You sure I can trust this contact of yours?" M'rassi asked. She didn't like the Bosmer, an ingrained prejudice many Khajiit shared." Don't worry about Malborn. He's not a dangerous character like you, but he hates the Thalmor at least as much as I do. He's a Wood-Elf - the Thalmor wiped out his family back in Valenwood during one of their purges we never hear about."

Now there M'rassi could relate. She herself was born in Orcrest after her mother fled a Thalmor purge of the wild Khajiit tribes. Her father had been a city-cat that took in the refugees hiding from the Elves.

"Luckily they don't know who he really is, or he wouldn't be serving drinks at the Ambassadors parties."

"So how exactly am I getting into this party?" M'rassi asked. Azurah, she had a bad feeling about this.

"Let me handle that. You'll have a real invitation, don't worry. As long as you act the part of a Thalmor toady, you'll get past the guards."

"Alright. Once I'm in, then?"

"That's when the fun starts. You'll have to slip away from the party without raising the alarm. Then you'll need to find Elenwen's office and search her files. Malborn should be able to point you in the right direction."

"Right, looks like I'll meet you in Solitude once I'm done with Malborn then." M'rassi shrugged, though she admitted she did not like it, not one bit.

"Sounds good, be careful."

Three days later they arrived in Solitude.

Onmund led the way to the Winking Skeever, a surprisingly well kept little tavern, despite its shabby exterior. They found the Wood Elf, Malborn, hunched over a table nursing a mug of warm mead that looked like it wasn't sitting well in his stomach.

M'rassi sat down at the table across from him. "Our mutual friend sent me." She said quietly when the mer raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"Really? You're who she picked?" Malborn sputtered, surprised by the wiry Khajiit. "I hope she know what she's doing." He sighed. Putting his elbows on the table, he leaned close.

"Here's the deal. I can smuggle some equipment into the Embassy for you." He told her, his voice low. "Don't plan on bringing in anything else in with you. The Thalmor take security very seriously. Give me what you can't live without, and I'll make sure to get it into the Embassy. The rest is up to you."

"Alright." M'rassi put several very strong magicka potions on the table, followed by a bundle of clean mage robes. She threw in some lockpicks for good measure. Finally she slipped her lucky dagger out of her boot and with great reluctance put it on the pile. It would be the first time she'd gone without it, even if it was only for a short time.

"That's it."

"Okay, I'll get this inside for you. I gotta go. I'll find you at the party. Don't worry." The Bosmer swept her belongings into a knapsack then left.

Onmund took his place at the table.

"I have a bad feeling about this." She told him.

"You're not the only one. I wish you didn't have to do this." He took her hand.

"So do I. But I'm supposed to be the Dragonborn. If I don't, who would?"

"I would." He told her.

"I know you would." She smiled sadly.

They found Delphine talking to a carriage driver at a farm just south of the Solitude stables.

"Have you given Malborn the gear you want to smuggle into the Embassy?" She asked as they drew near.

"Yes. Malborn's all set."

"Good. I have your invitation to the party. But the only way you're going to get past the guards is if they really believe you're an invited guest. You'll need to look the part and not be armed to the teeth. Here, put this on." Delphine passed her a bundle of fancy clothes.

M'rassi immediately stripped out of her travel-worn mage robes, much to Onmund's embarrassment. Khajiit didn't have much in the way of modesty when it came to nudity. Sure, he'd seem her in various states of undress on their travels, but never in naught but her smallclothes. He averted his eyes and felt his face burning.

M'rassi hastily slipped into the party attire, which was surprisingly comfortable. Delphine had even arranged for the necessary arrangements to accommodate her tail. She gave a little twirl when she was done, and Onmund eyed her appreciatively, his face still pink. Fool Nords and their modesty.

"I guess that will have to do. I'll hang onto the rest of your gear safe until you get back. You'll only have what you gave Malborn. Ready?"

M'rassi gave Onmund a quick hug, pressing the key to Breezehome into his hands.

"Khenarthi guide you." He said, and the significance of the Khajiiti goddess was not lost on her.

"And Shor watch over you." She told him, invoking the Nordic god.

"Ready." M'rassi turned to Delphine.

"You should pass for a real guest, at least until you open your mouth. Just make sure you get back out of there alive with the information we need. Good luck."

Oh gods, M'rassi sighed. What had she gotten herself into now?

She climbed into the carriage and looked back at Onmund and Delphine receding into the distance.

It was snowing again by the time she rolled up to the Embassy. It was getting dark too. M'rassi scowled at the weather, there was nothing she could do about it.

The Embassy itself was a great stone monolith built in the Solitude style. Onmund had told her that it used to belong to some noble family, but the Thalmor had appropriated it after the Great War. Or at least, that was what his father told him. He'd been born a couple of years after the War finished and was too young to remember. Icicles hung from the eaves, and snow cloaked the roof and a warm light shone out of the stained-glass windows. If it wasn't the Embassy of vipers it would be almost beautiful.

M'rassi jumped down from the wagon as a well-dressed Redguard walked though the gate.

"Ah! A fellow latecomer to Elenwen's little soiree. And arriving by carriage, no less! I salute you, my good lady!" The man was obviously drunk already.

"My lateness is due more to getting lost on the way up this gods-forsaken mountain than to any desire to actually arrive late." He slurred.

M'rassi rolled her eyes and approached an Altmer guard dressed in a winter variant of his people's native garb. His hood was drawn up against the cold and he was shivering visibly. A recent arrival from Alinor, then. He clutched the guest list to his chest.

"Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy. Your invitation please." Despite his discomfort, his voice was calm and composed. M'rassi felt the tickle of magic, and got a whiff of the sea as he checked her for hidden weapons.

"Certainly." M'rassi handed him the slip of paper.

He took the invitation, and crossed her name off the list before handing it back to her.

"Thank you, Ma'am. Go right in." He smiled.

M'rassi started up the stairs, keeping an ear on the guard, just in case.

"Now then, here's my invitation, I don't have a poisoned dagger strapped to my thigh, et cetera, et cetera." The drunken man said.

M'rassi smirked and pushed the heavy door aside. As soon as she'd finished brushing off the weather, she was approached by a stern looking High Elf with luxurious long blonde hair. She too was wearing her native dress, but of a much finer cut and cloth than the man outside.

"Welcome. I don't believe we've met. I'm Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are?"

"M'rassi. This one is pleased to meet you." She replied politely, deliberately slipping into her Ta'agra habits.

"Ah yes, I remember your name from the guest list. What brings you to this... " She grunted, almost in disgust. "To Skyrim?" She finished with her voice radiating distaste.

Before M'rassi could answer, a familiar voice cut in.

"Madame Ambassador, I'm so sorry." Malborn called out from the bar.

"What is it, Malborn?" The Ambassador whirled around to glare at the Bosmer.

M'rassi froze, the drunken man brushing past her as he joined the party.

"It's just that we've run out of the Alto wine." Malborn was saying. "Do I have your permission to uncork the Arenthia red?"

"Of course. I've told you before not to bother me with such trifles." Elenwen told him, her voice showing her annoyance.

"Yes, Madame Ambassador." Malborn acquiesced.

"My apologies. We'll have to get better acquainted later. Please, enjoy yourself." Elenwen said to M'rassi, the very picture of grace.

When the Ambassador was gone M'rassi headed for the bar.

"What can I get for you?" Malborn asked louder than was strictly necessary, before dropping his voice low. "You made it in. Good. As soon as you distract the guards, I'll open this door and we'll get you on the way. Let's hope we live through this day."

"Could I get a drink?" M'rassi winked to show she understood.

"Certainly, Madame." He poured her a glass of Colovian brandy. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Just be ready." M'rassi whispered.

"Of course, let me see if I've got another bottle of that." Malborn smiled nodding his head once.

M'rassi turned back to the party holding her brandy in what she hoped was an elegant manner. There were many people here, and most of them knew each other. There were a few lost souls hovering around the fringe and M'rassi soon joined them.

A bard was playing a flute in the corner and several waiters were mingling with hors d'oeuvres. M'rassi even saw one with roasted sugar cane, roughly chopped and sprinkled with honey and sesame. A Khajiiti dish.

She felt a sudden longing for home. The warm sands of Elsweyr. Maybe one day she'd go back. Maybe Onmund would go with her. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. She'd come to care for him a great deal in the couple of months since he'd invited himself along on their adventure. He always had her back, and was ready to help her however he could. Then at Ustengrav... he'd admitted how he felt about her. It had surprised her, but it was not unwelcome. She'd certainly enjoyed flirting with him since. Maybe when this was all over with... Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Her thoughts concerning the Nord took her around in circles.

She was very surprised when someone lightly pinched her elbow, breaking her reverie. She jerked in fright, almost spilling the last of her brandy. She turned and found none other than Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone of Hjaalmarch Hold. The old woman was smiling.

M'rassi and Onmund had done several odd jobs in Morthal for extra coin and before they knew it, the Jarl had made M'rassi the Thane of Hjaalmarch. Onmund had teased her mercilessly. Rumour in the Hold was that Idgrod the Elder saw things, odd things. Half of her people thought she was brilliant, the other half, mad. And now here she was at this unusual party.

"Here's a face I did not expect to see. Be mindful, for you walk among adders." She warned M'rassi, though the smile never left her face.

"Are you having fun, my Jarl?" M'rassi smiled back, well aware of the snake pit. Beneath her fur, her skin had not stopped crawling since she arrived.

"Fair faces and fine food are well and good, but honesty is rarely so pleasing."

The aged Jarl always spoke in such half-riddles. She knew the Khajiit was not supposed to be here, but chose to keep her Thane's secret. Perhaps she could be of use.

"My Jarl, I was wondering I you might do me a favour?" M'rassi asked cautiously.

"My ears are always open to a friend's request."

"I need you to cause a scene. Get everyone's attention for a few moments."

The old woman smiled a devilish grin, dark delight lighting up her eyes.

"Nothing would please me more. I'll keep their eyes away while you do what you came here for." Jarl Idgrod sipped on her wine. "An old woman can get away with almost anything." She chuckled.

M'rassi watched as the Jarl walked over to the drunken man from outside.

"No harm is meant to you, happy fool." Idgrod said quietly to the man and he looked at her confused.

"Right here! I can see it in your face! The snakes writhe behind your eyes! Get away! Get away from me!" The Jarl screeched.

"Did you say snakes? Where? I hate them, always slithering the way they do... what? Are they on me?" The drunken man squirmed looking for the non-existent serpents.

"Begone from this house serpent, and trouble it no more!" Idgrod placed her palm on the drunken man's forehead as if trying to banish a spirit.

M'rassi slowly stepped back towards the bar, and everyone at the party watched the commotion, staff included.

"Beware of the serpent in your midst! Beware, oh people of Skyrim!" The Jarl crowed.

"Razelan. And you promised to behave yourself this time! Remove him. He's a disturbance to the other guests." Elenwen scolded.

M'rassi downed the last of her brandy before Malborn ushered her through the door. As she pulled the door shut, she heard the drunk-man once more.

"I protest! This is an insult to the dignity of my person! This time I'm completely innocent!" And he was gone.

"Well played, my Jarl. Well played." M'rassi chuckled as Malborn locked the door.

"So far, so good. Let's hope nobody saw us slip out. We need to pass through the kitchen. Your gear is hidden in the larder. Just stay close and let me do the talking, got it?"

"Got it."

Malborn unlocked the door and led her into the dark kitchen. Delightful smells permeated the air, and M'rassi's whiskers splayed forward as she took a few deep breaths. Malborn unlocked the door and led her into the dark kitchen. Delightful smells permeated the air, and M'rassi's whiskers splayed forward as she took a few deep breaths.

The kitchen was relentlessly busy, cooks and waiters, scullery maids and footmen running every which way to keep the nobles fed and watered. In the rush it was easy for the pair of then to slink across the kitchen. Malborn ushered M'rassi into the larder, which was well stocked with bottles and jars and casks of who knew what.

Malborn ushered M'rassi into the larder, which was well stocked with bottles and jars and casks of who knew what.

"Your gear is in there." Malborn pointed. "I'll lock the door behind you, don't screw this up. I'd better go. If someone misses me at the party we're both dead."

He left and M'rassi heard the key turn in the lock. She opened the crate and found her gear stashed in the small satchel from earlier in the day. She quickly changed into her fresh robes, stashing the party clothes in the satchel. Then she realised what she'd forgotten. She could not put her lucky dagger into her boots as she'd forgotten to give them to Malborn. She only had the flimsy cloth shoes Delphine had given her for the party. She ended up tying the dagger to her belt.

She slipped through the second door, and settled into a crouch. If she treated this like a hunt, she might just get through this with her hide intact.

She could hear two men with elven voices speaking.

"Did you see those robes march in this morning? Who're they with? More of the Emissary's treaty enforcers?"

"No. They're high mages, just in from Alinor. I guess Herself is finally getting worried about the dragon attacks."

"Ah, good. I've been wondering about how we were supposed to defend this place from a dragon."

"If a dragon does show up, maybe we'll get lucky and it will eat the mages first. Might give us enough time to kill it."

M'rassi raised an eyebrow, for a race supposedly steeped in magic, it seemed some of the High Elves had similar attitudes to magic that Nords did.

"Ha! I'd like to see those arrogant bastards taken down a notch. Always looking down their noses at us lowly footsloggers."

The men laughed, and M'rassi smothered a laugh of her own, hoping to the Nine they couldn't hear her. She heard them move off, their boots thudding on the stone floor. She carefully snuck into the room behind them watching as they disappeared off down a corridor.

Her hackles rose. She couldn't put her finger on why.

A stray gust of wind blowing though a forgotten window caught the door behind her, slamming it. She froze.

The Thalmor guards raced back into the room and saw her crouched by the door with a look of stunned panic on her face.

"Get her!" One of them shouted, drawing his sword.

"Oh fuck!" M'rassi cussed. She shot a bolt of lightning at the closest one as he charged.

He reeled back, stunned. Another bolt sent him flying into his comrade. They crumpled to the floor in a tangled mess of arms and legs. A well placed spike of ice finished off the live one.

M'rassi searched them for keys, panting. She could hear shouts from upstairs, soldiers alerted by the sound of fighting. Things had gone wrong, badly wrong.

A guard rushed down the steps, and M'rassi slapped him with a lightning bolt. He slipped and fell, breaking his neck with a sickening snap. A second guard came down and jumped over the first.

M'rassi slung another lightning bolt, but it was blocked by a Ward, this one was a mage. Thinking quickly, she drew her dagger and charged.

"Feim!" She Shouted, passing through the man, whirling around and when she became corporeal again she drove the dagger into his neck. He man gaped like a fish as he sunk to the ground, blood poring from the wound.

M'rassi huffed a quiet growl as she pulled the small blade out and wiped it on her robes. The only reason that had worked was because he'd not seen the Thu'um before. She'd best be careful, else they'd piece together who she was and come after her. Or Onmund. She couldn't let that happen. In that instant, she knew exactly what she wanted with her friend. She made a promise to herself to do something about him when she got back. If she got back.

She listened carefully, twisting her head and ears this way and that. She could hear the music from the party, she wasn't missed, yet. She couldn't hear any more shouts or people moving around. For now, she was safe.

She moved quickly, maybe having only minutes before the patrols were missed. A quick search of the ground floor revealed only storerooms and a wine cellar. Upstairs she found a bedroom and waiting room, nothing resembling on office.

"Gods-damn it!" She swore. She stepped out of a door leading out into the courtyard.

She emerged onto a walkway built into the wall of the compound. It was fully dark now, both Masser and Secunda rose low in the sky. At least the snow had stopped.

A shrill whistle pierced the air, followed by shouting. She'd been spotted.

She dashed along the wall, arrows skipping from the bricks. She slipped on a patch of black ice sending her headlong into a snow drift. Those bloody shoes! She pulled herself out and ducked as an ice spear sailed over her head.

A Thalmor soldier was advancing, sword raised menacingly.

"You should never have come here!" He hissed and charged.

M'rassi hit him with a bolt of lightning and he sailed back and was impaled on one of the spiked bars of the fence.

M'rassi skidded along the wall and into cover. She peeked her head out to see what was going on. She pulled her head back and an arrow skipped off the rock. There were two archers, a mage and a soldier. She bared her teeth. This was not going to be easy.

Steeling herself, she leapt from her hiding spot. She shot an ice spear each at the archers, forgoing speed for accuracy. She hit one in the chest, the bloody end of it poking out of his back as he fell. The other one was hit in the leg, and he collapsed to the snow, howling in pain.

M'rassi jumped aside, a fireball from the mage narrowly missing her. Again she hit a patch of black ice, but she caught the side of another building with her claws. The slip gave the soldier a chance to attack her.

He dashed at her, sword raised and positioned to run her through. She reacted instinctively, ducking. His sword stuck the wall with a clang, the pommel driving into his gut, winding him. He went down like a sack of potatoes. M'rassi dived onto him and rammed her dagger into the soft flesh under his chin. She tore a great bloody hole with the blade, and launched herself backward.

The mage had fired off an ice spear which shattered against the wall where M'rassi's head had been. She charged up a fire ball and circled around the mage. He'd thrown up a Ward. It was only a matter of time before his magicka ran out and the Ward dropped. She could wait.

They danced around each other for a couple of minutes, taunting each other. M'rassi watched him slowly tire from sustaining the Ward. Her ears swivelled back and forth picking up every little sound in the night. Her tail flicked in anticipation.

Everything happened so fast. The mer dropped his Ward, M'rassi loosed her fireball, knocking him back. She jumped at him, raking her claws across his face. He delivered a savage kick to her gut, throwing her off him. M'rassi rolled across the snow covered flagstone with a yowl. The mage came at her, dagger raised and she Shouted.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!"

The look on the mage's face as he sailed over the roof the main building was almost comical.

She pulled herself over to the second building, weaving a healing spell as she went. She hurt all over and she was freezing her tail off. She'd forgotten to give her winter cloak to Malborn as well.

She stole into the second building.

She killed a trio of guards and searched quickly. It was only a matter of time before they found the mage in front of the Embassy.

M'rassi found Elenwen's office on the ground floor. She rifled through the papers until she found something concerning dragons. She read the title and stuffed it into the satchel. Then she spied something of greater interest.

It was a dossier of Delphine, it was bound with another regarding Ulfric Stormcloak. M'rassi took them both and added them to the satchel.

She searched for a way out, rather than using the way she came in. She found a door but it was locked. She tried her lockpicks but couldn't focus, and broke every one of them. Desperate now, she searched the bodies of the guards for a key and found one.

She made her way back to the door and let herself through. She could hear the screams of a man being tortured. She hurried down the stairs and the shrieks got louder. She found three cells lined up, but only once was in use.

The torturer quickly perished in a ball of flame and M'rassi went over to the poor wretch hanging from the wall.

"I told you, I don't know anything else about it!" He pleaded.

"Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." M'rassi reached for the catches.

"What?... Who... What do you want then?" He asked his voice shaky.

"No time to explain. Let's get out of here!" M'rassi released the catches and he dropped to the ground. She wasn't about to leave the poor man in the care of the Thalmor, especially now.

"Thank you friend." He picked himself up. "Come on, this way. I've seen the guards use it for bodies. It must lead somewhere." He led her to a trapdoor.

It was locked.

"Shit!" M'rassi swore.

She searched the torturer for the key, but it wasn't on him. She tore apart his miserable excuse for an office, but only found another dossier, on a man named Esbern. She stuffed that into the small pack too. She headed back upstairs, maybe there was a key in the Ambassadors office. She halted as she drew closer to the door, someone was coming. She pressed herself into the corner by the door and waited.

The door swung open and three people entered the room.

"Tiid!" M'rassi Shouted and time slowed around her.

It was Malborn, escorted by two guards. They'd found him out, and now they were bringing him down here to find out what he was up to. She aimed ice spears right at the guard's heads and watched with a mad delight as time sped up again.

The two guards were pinned to the wall by the ice spears run through their skulls. It was almost elegant, certainly something the Dark Brotherhood would be proud of.

"Now the Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life! I hope it was worth it." Malborn growled at M'rassi.

"I hope so too." She snorted and searched the dead guards for any keys. She found several on a thick iron key ring. With any luck, one would open the trap door. Then again, luck had not been her strong suit tonight.

It seemed her luck was changing however, one of the keys turned in the lock and the three of them jumped down into an icy cave.

They heard growling and M'rassi signalled for the men to wait. The awful scent of troll filled her nostrils. She charged a fireball and dropped down, surprising a frost troll and drowning it in flames.

She signalled it was safe and they ran down a narrow passage, emerging out onto the mountainside. It was snowing again.

Malborn ran off like his arse was on fire. M'rassi didn't blame him. She wanted to put as much distance between the Embassy and herself as fast as she could.

"Thanks for springing me. I owe you. If you ever find yourself in Riften, look me up. Name's Etienne Rarnis." Said the tortured man.

"Wait! Take these. I didn't spring you just so you could freeze to death." M'rassi gave him the clothes she'd been wearing at the party. The poor fool was dressed only in some torn rags held up by a length of rope. There was no way a Breton could survive for long in Skyrim in such threadbare clothing.

"Thanks. Now I owe you twice."

It had been three days since he'd left her in Solitude. He himself had only arrived back the day before, letting himself in and explaining everything to M'rassi's Housecarl. She'd been suspicious when Onmund turned up alone, but understood the reasons, though she didn't have to like them. Meeko had simply greeted him in the way of dogs, with a happy bark and a cold nose to the crotch. Sensing his master's unease, the hound kept close, following close behind Onmund's heels. Onmund ignored him, seemingly determined to wear a path in the floorboards. He had not slept since he arrived, instead opting to pace up and down the length of the cottage. His brow knotted in worry and his jaw had a hard set to it.

'Plink.'

The Housecarl, Lydia, had taken to tossing a small pebble into a large blue vase every time he turned around. The stones hit the flared opening with a soft 'plink' before falling inside. She was getting so good at it that she made every single pebble do it.

'Plink.'

The sound was driving Onmund mad, and Lydia knew it. Then again, his pacing was driving her mad; the ceaseless thumping of his boots on the floorboards had kept her awake all bloody night.

'Plink.'

She really hoped the Thane of Whiterun got back soon, or she might have to kill the mage, if only to get some peace and quiet. Like most Nords, she didn't really trust magic-users, her liege lord being the sole exception.

'Plink.' Another stone.

Onmund had had enough. He whirled around to confront her when the front door opened, admitting M'rassi. Meeko gave a loud yip.

She looked haggard, the robes she was wearing stained with blood and dirt, torn in many places. She paused in the door momentarily, eyes searching, and she lit up when she spied Onmund.

With five quick strides she closed the distance between them, grabbed a fistful of his robes, pulled him down and kissed him in the manner of men.

For a moment Onmund just stood there, a stunned look in his face, before he kissed her back. He brought his hands to her cheeks, pressing his body against hers. M'rassi released his clothes, flinging an arm over his shoulder and holding him tightly. They broke it off when they heard the door close.

The Housecarl was gone. So was the dog.

They leaned their foreheads together, relishing each other's presence.

"Oh Mara, please let me not be dreaming." The Nord whispered.

"Onmund is not dreaming." M'rassi whispered back, falling back on her old speech pattern out of delight.

"Good." And he kissed her again, with more passion.

M'rassi was just as eager. She pushed him back towards the chairs by the fire pit, not relenting her assault on his face for a second. Onmund was surprised when his legs hit the wood, and he sat down, M'rassi climbing onto his lap. He leaned his head back as she started giving him Khajiiti kisses, her rough tongue tracing his jaw. It tickled terribly.

"That tickles!" Onmund giggled.

"Want me to stop?" M'rassi asked cheekily.

"Gods no!"

The Nord leaned back too far and the chair soon tumbled backward, sending them sprawling onto the floor, a laughing tangle of arms and legs and bodies.

"Ow!" Onmund laughed. The chair was digging painfully into his lower back. He kicked it away.

"Arrgh." M'rassi chuckled, untangling herself from him and rolling off so they were lying side by side on the floorboards.

They rolled over to face one another, happy to simply be together. Onmund reached over and stroked her muzzle with his fingertips and M'rassi fingered the braid that ran down from behind his right ear. She had curled her tail around his hip.

"So, find out anything interesting?" He asked.

"Yes. I need to talk to Delphine." She replied, cupping his face.

"Right now?"

"No. We'll go to Riverwood tomorrow. Right now, I could sleep for a week."

"Me too." He whispered, smiling blearily.

"Plenty of time to plant your cane another day."

"Plant my what?" Onmund asked before it dawned on him. His face and neck flushed bright pink and they both dissolved into guffaws at the khajiiti euphemism.

She gave him another kiss and they picked themselves up and made their way up to the rough cot upstairs. They collapsed onto it, too exhausted to even bothering to get undressed. It was little more than a bed of hay with a horse hide covering it, but within minutes, they were both sound asleep.


	10. A Cornered Rat

**Chapter Ten: A Cornered Rat.**

M'rassi filled Onmund in of all the things that had happened at the Embassy as they journeyed to Riverwood. How things started off alright, then quickly went to Oblivion. Of Malborn's capture and the bedraggled man. How they'd barely escaped with their lives. He listened patiently, though his face was troubled.

She'd read the dossiers and notes concerning dragons with great interest, while she took the cart back to Whiterun. The Thalmor had no idea where the dragons had come from, even suspecting the Blades were behind it. It seemed everybody was suspicious of everybody else. The Imperials thought the Stormcloaks were behind it, though M'rassi had seen the disbelief on Jarl Ulfric's face in Helgen. The Blades suspected the Thalmor and vice versa. Still not clear was who or what that black dragon was and how he was resurrecting the other dragons.

It was a complete mess!

All she wanted to do was go back to the College with Onmund and study the Dwemer machines in peace. When she told him this, he looked much happier. They started debating the disappearance of the Dwarves, which eventually turned into an argument about whether or not they really were gone.

Onmund believed the Dwemer were not gone, but were really hiding in a realm of Oblivion. M'rassi had countered with accounts of visits to the various realms of Oblivion which that she'd read while still at the Synod before the accident. None of the works mentioned seeing a Dwemer in any realm accessed. Despite the fierceness of the argument, it was nice to have a distraction from the dragons. The Nord eventually conceded defeat, M'rassi was a few years older than him, so she'd had access to guild materials for longer. He'd read as much as he could in the few days he'd been at the College before he joined the Khajiit on her adventure, but there was only so much you could read in three days.

As Sun's Dusk drew nearer and the true Skyrim winter set in, Riverwood found itself blanketed in soft white snow. Gone was the verdant green of the valley, replaced with the bleak hues of white and grey, with the needles of the pine trees appearing black on the backdrop. The White River was starting to freeze over, slushy ice forming close to the banks.

The sawmill was no longer operating, closed for the winter since the water wheel could no longer turn. The mechanism locked solid with ice. Icicles dangled from the eaves of the houses, and everyone remained indoors, except for the poor guards assigned to Riverwood by Jarl Balgruuf. They huddled around a brazier by each gate, drinking hot tea to keep them warm.

M'rassi and Onmund walked single file along the ruts carved by wagons passing though the town. It was certainly easier than trying to wade through the almost knee deep snow.

Inside the Sleeping Giant it was lovely and warm. Sven the bard was singing the Age of Aggression, and it was almost a relief to hear something other than Ragnar the Red. They brushed the snow off themselves, and Delphine brought them a bowl of hot soup and a flagon of warm mead. She didn't say anything yet, it was safer to wait until later, down in the secret room.

An hour later, with their bellies full and their bones thawed, they slipped out of the common and down into Delphine's hidden room. The Breton joined them a few minutes later, finding them leaning on the table, Onmund hastily copying the Dragonstone map into his battered journal.

"You made it out alive, at least. Your gear's over there." Delphine pointed.

M'rassi found her familiar knapsack in a large chest against the wall. She quickly shoved Malborn's satchel inside her pack, she'd sort it all out later.

"Did you learn anything useful?" Delphine asked, folding her arms and leaning on the table with her hip.

"Well, I learned the Thalmor don't know anything about the dragons." M'rassi said nonchalantly.

"Really? I find that hard to believe. Are you sure?"

"See for yourself." M'rassi dropped the dragon notes and two of the dossiers on the table, leaving Ulfric's in her pack. She handed the one on Esbern to Delphine. "They're looking for someone named Esbern."

"Esbern? He's alive?" Delphine's jaw dropped, her normally cool demeanour giving way to genuine surprise. "I thought the Thalmor must have got him years ago. That crazy old man... Figures the Thalmor would be on his trail, though, if they were trying to find out what's going on with the dragons."

"So why exactly do the Thalmor want Esbern. I read the dossier and it said he was a lore master."

"Aside from wanting to kill every Blade they can lay their hands on, Esbern was one of the Blades archivists, back before the Thalmor smashed us during the Great War. He knew everything about the ancient dragonlore of the Blades." Delphine's voice took a sad note. "Obsessed with it, really. Nobody paid as much attention back then. I guess he wasn't as crazy as we all thought."

"The Thalmor believe the Blades know about the dragons." Onmund said, still copying the map.

"Ironic, right? The old enemies assume every calamity must be a plot by the other side... " Delphine smiled, but it held no mirth.

"Tell me about it... " M'rassi rolled her eyes, and both humans snorted a quick laugh.

"Even so, we've got to find Esbern before they do. He'll know how to stop the dragons if anybody does. Do they know where he is?"

"They seem to think he's holed up somewhere in Riften. They were trying to get some information out of a man. Thieves Guild type." M'rassi told her.

"Riften, eh? Probably down in the Ratway, then. It's where I'd go. You'd better get there. Ask around the Ragged Flagon, in the Ratway. It's at least a good starting point."

Delphine looked at the dossier in her hand and sighed deeply.

"When you find Esbern... if you think I'm paranoid... you may have some trouble getting him to trust you. Just ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means."

"So what did the Thalmor do to the Blades anyway?" Onmund asked. He hadn't even been born when the Great War finished, almost twenty-six years ago. It was not something spoken of in everyday conversation.

"The Great War happened, that's what. Emperor Titus Mede saved the Empire but at a very high price. A price that included the Blades. The Nords didn't like the peace treaty much either, thirty years later, and they have the Stormcloak rebellion on their hands. No doubt exactly as the Thalmor intended."

"You should probably read this, then." M'rassi handed Ulfric's dossier to Delphine.

The Breton read it quickly then handed it back to the Khajiit, her expression very troubled.

"It certainly answers a lot of questions, but it doesn't help us with the dragons. Maybe we can do something about it when this is all over."

"Please, tell us about the Great War. I was born after the war, and I've only read about it in books. My father did fight, but he refused to speak of it. M'rassi was too young to remember." Onmund snapped his journal shut, his sketch finished.

"Long version or short version?" Delphine sighed.

"Short version."

"Alright. You know the Thalmor are the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion, which used to be the old Imperial provinces of Summerset Isles and Valenwood. They've been slowly chipping away at the Empire for the last century or so. First with Valenwood, then Elsweyr. Thirty years ago, the Great War happened, and the Empire was hammered. The Emperor signed the White-Gold Concordat, a fancy name for the peace treaty. It ended the war and let the Empire fight another day. It also trampled on the sacred name of Talos and gave the Thalmor free reign to stamp out Talos worship throughout the Empire. Even the Blades didn't see the Great War coming. We underestimated the Thalmor, and they destroyed us... " Delphine finished sadly. It was clear that was all she was going to say on the matter.

"Anyway, you'd better go find Esbern before the Thalmor get to him."

"Understood." M'rassi bowed her head.

As they climbed their way up the stairs, they heard the soft whimpers of sorrow echo up from the chamber below. For all Delphine's strength, she was still human.

Riften was nestled in a large valley formed by the Velothi Mountains to the east and the Jerall Mountains to the southwest. At the head of the valley Silgrad Pass, named for it's famous tower, divided the road south out of Skyrim, and east to ruined Morrowind and south to Cyrodiil. The whole area was called the Rift Hold, and for good reason.

With winter setting in, the passes were closed up with snow. The Khajiiti merchant caravans prevalent in Skyrim these days had settled to winter in various towns. M'rassi and Onmund had not been able to come the short way, Helgen Pass was closed by an avalanche, so they'd been forced to go north around the Throat of the World, adding a couple of days to their journey.

Riften itself was a dark and depressing city, not helped by the additional bleakness of Skyrim's winter months. It had a canal system that served as a reservoir, though these were completely frozen over. The canals looped around a circular marketplace like a noose, and a few hardy souls braved the foul weather to hawk their wares.

The Jarl's Keep loomed over the town, a tired looking building with a few tattered banners flapping about in the breeze.

The only building that showed any form of exuberance was a smallish chapel just off the market, with colourful yellow and orange banners which looked quite new. It was a stark contrast to the dreary boarding houses around it.

When M'rassi asked, Onmund told her it was the Temple of Mara, where lovers came to be wed. Life in Skyrim was hard and often all too short, as such courtships were often very brief. Even though Nords often bragged about how many lovers they'd bedded, the act of physical love itself was only talked about behind closed doors. He had an awkward expression on his face when he told her. Fool Nords and their modesty.

It was similar in Elsweyr. The harsh climate often claimed folks young, even among Khajiit, so love was something precious, no matter where it was found. Mara was part of the Khajiiti pantheon too, and Her Temple was in Rimmen, not far from the famed Tonenaka. Mara was the Mother Cat, consort of Sangiin the Blood Cat, and together they formed the basis of Khajiiti love. Unlike the Nords, the Khajiit were very open when it came to the desires of the flesh. How else could one learn unless you talked about it?

M'rassi very much enjoyed the way Onmund's face and ears burned when she told him this. He squirmed before clearing his throat and asking if she knew where the Ratway was so they could find this Esbern fellow.

They found an inn called the Bee and Barb, next to the famous Black-Briar Meadery. Asking around inside revealed the Ratway was accessed from the canals by the marketplace. The Argonian innkeeper warned them that there were shady characters down there, and the place was not for the likes of them. It didn't take them long to find the door into the honeycomb network of sewers appropriately named the Ratway.

The sewers were cold, damp, narrow passages, filled with rats and skeevers. Black grime coated everything and M'rassi shuddered to think what it was. She covered her sensitive nose with a thick, woollen scarf Onmund had given her when the foul weather had really started to set in. It failed to make much difference.

They wandered around the passages for an hour, easily disposing of the low-life cutthroats that dared slow them down. Eventually they found themselves in a large cistern, a light from a hole in the cavernous ceiling showing them they were directly under the well in the marketplace. Across the pool of filthy looking water was a collection of tables that looked suspiciously like a bar.

This must be the Ragged Flagon, M'rassi thought, soon confirmed by a rough sign painted on a plank of wood with something greasy. They picked their way around the edge of the pool and were stopped by a great bear of a man called Dirge, who looked like he could even break even Onmund in half with barely a thought.

"We're looking for Etienne Rarnis." M'rassi told him, squaring her shoulders and looking him straight in the eye.

Dirge scowled at her and after a minute, he jerked his head for them to go in. The bar went eerily silent at the mages skulked in. A pair of men were dicing in a corner and another table hosted a pair of Khajiit playing zahb, a card game native to Elsweyr.

"Ho, there, friend!" A voice called, and the man she'd rescued from the Embassy came over.

He dragged them over to the bar and the pub went back to it's usual hubbub. The bartender deposited a mug of top-quality Black-Briar mead before them, pilfered from the Meadery's vats by the Guild.

"On me." Etienne told the barkeep, a surly old Nord called Vekel the Man.

"You're looking much better since I sprung your sorry arse." M'rassi smiled her triangular Khajiit grin at Etienne.

"That was you?" Said a handsome red-haired Nord along the bar.

Etienne introduced him as Brynjolf, second-in-command of the Thieves Guild.

"For someone to break into the Thalmor Embassy and come out in one piece... We need someone like you in the Guild." Brynjolf told her.

Onmund shifted uncomfortably beside her, and she curled her tail around his waist.

"Thanks, but I'm not interested." M'rassi said firmly.

Brynjolf shrugged.

"So what brings you down to our lovely abode?" Etienne asked.

"I'm looking for someone."

"Vekel's your man, there." Brynjolf nodded at the barkeep. "He knows all the comings and goings of every soul in these tunnels."

Vekel scowled at M'rassi and Onmund.

"It's fine Vekel, they're friends of the Guild!" Etienne urged.

"If you say so."

"Know of an old guy hiding out in Riften? Name of Esbern?"

"Lot of people looking for him. Don't know the name, but he's paid good money for nobody to know he's down here. Might be him." Vekel scrubbed the bar with a filthy rag.

"Sounds promising." Onmund said.

"He's holed up in the Ratway Warrens. Hardly ever leaves the place - has someone bring him food and such. Crazy old coot, from what I've heard. For him to stand out down here, he must be really off his nut." Vekel waved in the general direction of a door.

M'rassi snorted back a laugh. "So who else is looking for him?"

"Dangerous-looking Elves that didn't give their names. Draw your own conclusions."

"Shit!" M'rassi swore. "We've got to go!"

She and Onmund drained their mead.

"Hey, I owe you twice!" Etienne called after them.

"Get us a safe way out of here! Then we're even!" M'rassi shouted as they dashed through the door.

Through the door the maze was only slightly drier, but no less filthy. The smell of excrement permeated the air.

M'rassi twitched her ears, picking up several people moving around in the passages, but the echoes made it impossible to tell how many. A ball of lightning charged in each hand they crept through the dank hallways.

As they snuck along a catwalk they were spotted.

"Over there!"

M'rassi twisted around, firing one of her lightning bolts at a Thalmor agent. The mer stumbled back, throwing up a Ward.

M'rassi snarled, sidestepping the elven mage. An arrow sprouted from the mer's forehead, Onmund's aim true. He'd drawn his hunting bow as soon as the Ward went up, and he silently thanked his father for showing him how to use the weapon. He still preferred his magic though.

They dashed along a corridor dripping water from the canals above, smacking into another Thalmor soldier as they rounded a corner. Onmund and the soldier went down rebounding off each other.

M'rassi crouched, holding the Nord down as the Elf started to sit up, groaning.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" She Shouted and the mer froze solid.

She roughly hauled Onmund to his feet and they carried on along the passage. A short distance later brought them to the chamber below the catwalk, and the clatter of an arrow ricocheting drew their attention.

A Thalmor archer stood on the catwalk, readying another shot. Onmund hit him with a bolt of lightning, swiftly followed by a ball of flame from M'rassi. The archer shrieked was he was engulfed him flame.

"Can you hear any more?" Onmund asked quietly.

"Shh!" She hissed.

M'rassi twisted her ears back and forth turning her head. Her tail lashed wildly, battering Onmund's knees. She could hear the scrabbling of rats, and the faint rambling of an obviously mad woman. But no heavy boots.

"Nothing." She whispered, not taking any chances.

Ten minutes of searching later they came across a well secured door. It was made of heavy wood and banded with iron. Set into the door was a metal plate.

M'rassi pounded on the door and the metal plate slid back, a pair of blue eyes narrowed in suspicion peered out.

"Go away!"

The flap slid shut. M'rassi pounded again.

"I said, go away! Ain't nothing for you here!" The slot opened once again.

"Esbern? Open the door! I'm a friend!"

"What!? No, that's not me. I'm not Esbern. I don't know what you're talking about!"

The flap started to slide shut again, but M'rassi stuck her hand in. She yowled as the metal slammed into her fist.

"Delphine sent me!" M'rassi growled through clenched teeth, ears laid back. Her tail lashed wildly.

The flap slowly slid open once more.

"Delphine? How do you... so you finally found her, and she led you to me. And here I am caught like a rat in a trap."

"Please! Delphine needs your help to stop the dragons! She said to ask where you were on the 30th of Frostfall!" M'rassi hissed.

"The 30th of... So Delphine keeps up the fight after all these years... " He was silent for a long time, weighing up his options. "You'd better come in and tell me how you found me and what you want."

M'rassi withdrew her hand and the flap slid shut.

"This will just take a moment... " Esbern said through the door.

M'rassi inspected her hand. It was bruised underneath the short fur, one of her claws was chipped and there was a cut across her thumb and index finger.

"Aiiish!" She hissed in pain as she flexed her fingers open.

"Here, let me." Onmund took her hand gently, working his healing magic.

M'rassi listened to Esbern unfastening all the locks on his door. Gods, this man was paranoid. Still, with enemies like the Thalmor, he had good reason to be.

"Only a couple more... " Esbern said, locks and chains clanking.

"Thanks." M'rassi gave Onmund a quick kiss.

"There we are!" The door swung open and Esbern ushered them inside. "Come in! Come in! Make yourselves at home!"

Once inside, Esbern slammed the door shut and slid a bolt lock across.

Esbern's bolt hole was a dark little room that reeked of mildew. There was a narrow cot shoved into a corner, as well as a desk that looked like it had been hammered together by scrap wood found in the canals. There were several crates of bottles filled with drinkable water, and a few baskets of potatoes.

Everywhere there were books. Old books, new books. Books of every size, shape and colour. Strewn about the books were rolls of parchment and vellum. Many of them were covered in spidery handwriting.

Esbern moved some books off a couple of stools and gestured for M'rassi and Onmund to sit.

"That's better, now we can talk." He sat on a crate. "So Delphine keeps up the fight, after all these years."

Esbern was a skinny Nord man in his late seventies. His leathery face looked even more ancient than Master Arngeir's, if it were possible. He was bald on top, and what little remained of his hair was short, thin, lank and silvery grey. His short beard looked as if it had been roughly trimmed with a blunt dagger. It probably had been. He was dressed in a filthy tunic that had once been white.

"I thought she'd have realised it's hopeless by now. I tried to tell her years ago... " Esbern sighed.

"What do you mean, hopeless?" M'rassi asked.

Esbern gave her a bitter smile.

"Haven't you figured it out yet? What more needs to happen before you all wake up and see what's going on? Alduin has returned! Just like the prophesy said!"

"Alduin!? But he's a god! Gods don't physically manifest on Tamriel!" Onmund sputtered.

"Stupid boy! Don't you know anything!" Esbern growled. He searched his piles of books, pulling a few out and passing them to Onmund.

"I thought he was just the Nord version of Alkosh - Akatosh?" M'rassi asked.

"No, no, no! He's different, maybe an aspect of Akatosh, there's been many debates. Oh, where did I put that book?" Esbern pushed over a pile, the pages fluttering.

"Alduin is... the Dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead! No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife! Alduin will devour all things and the world will end. Nothing can stop him!"

"But the World-Eater is just a story! To frighten children!" Onmund frowned.

"Bah!" Esbern tapped him on the head with a book. "I tried to tell them. They wouldn't listen! Fools. It's all come true... all I could do was watch our doom approach... "

"But you're talking about the literal end of the world!" She didn't know if the old fool was maddeningly right, or just plain mad.

Esbern handed M'rassi a very familiar book.

She had found a copy at Helgen, and saw another one at the College. The black leather cover was embossed with a silver dragon.

"Onmund, remember the College? Tolfdir and the Prophesy?" M'rassi showed him the book. He took it and flipped through the pages.

"Oh, yes. It's all been foretold. The end has begun. Alduin has returned." Esbern sat back down heavily on his crate. "Only a Dragonborn can stop him. But no Dragonborn has been known for centuries. It seems that the gods have grown tired of us. They've left us to our fate, as the plaything of Alduin the World-Eater... " He sighed.

M'rassi glanced at Onmund, still buried in books, then back to Esbern.

"It's not hopeless, Esbern. I'm Dragonborn."

The look of incredulity on Esbern's face was almost epic. He gaped like a fish for several long seconds.

"What? You're... can it really be true? Dragonborn?" He leapt up, scattering books and papers. "Then... there is hope! The gods have not abandoned us! We must... we must... " He paced back an forth a few times, scratching his beard. "We must go, quickly now. Take me to Delphine. We have much to discuss."

Esbern stalked past them over to the desk.

"But, give me... just a moment... I must gather a few things." He started rifling through his books and papers.

Onmund and M'rassi stuffed the books Esbern had given them into their packs. They'd read them later. Esbern grabbed his own knapsack and piled a few books into it, and shoved a stack of papers into his small fire pit.

"One moment, I know, time is of the essence, but mustn't leave secrets for the Thalmor... "

He when over to a small chest at the end of his cot and fished out a couple more books.

"I'll need this... No, no, useless trash... where'd I put my annotated Anuad?" He said to himself as he searched.

He ran over to the kitchen area and stuffed some food into his pack for the road.

"There's one more thing I must bring." He quickly scanned a small bookshelf, picked up a heavy tome and stuffed that into his already bulging pack.

"Got everything?" M'rassi asked, clearly amused by the doddering old man.

"Well, I guess that's good enough, let's be off... "

M'rassi unbolted the door and led them back out into the passages.

The Thalmor were waiting for them. They rounded a corridor and ran into a trio of soldiers adorned in ornate elven armour. Their conjured swords glowed a bright blue in the dim light.

Esbern proved himself a competent mage, his spells much more powerful than the younger mages. They quickly slaughtered the soldiers and made their way back to the Ragged Flagon. M'rassi could hear more shouts in the passages behind them.

"Hurry!" She pushed through the door into the pub.

She spied Brynjolf arguing with a Thalmor agent, Dirge hovering nearby.

"Hey! This way!" It was Etienne, calling from a small passage half hidden by a shelf.

He led them into another cistern, lined with beds and all manner of thievery paraphernalia. This was obviously the Thieves Guild headquarters.

They dashed past a few startled men, unused to complete strangers in their hiding place. Etienne showed them up a ladder, leading up into Riften.

"Thanks, Etienne. We saw nothing, here."

"Now, we're even." He smiled.

They soon emerged into the chilly Riften air, moons rising in the moonlight.


	11. Alduin's Wall

**Chapter Eleven: Alduin's Wall.**

Three days later they turned up at the Sleeping Giant. As soon as they walked in they spied Delphine, sweeping up some sawdust sodden mess. It didn't look pleasant.

"Delphine! I... it's good to see you. It's been... along time." Esbern exclaimed.

Delphine gave him a quick hug, her eyes teary. She held him at arm's length, as if she couldn't believe it was really him.

"It's good to see you too, Esbern. It's been too long, old friend. Too long. You made it, safe and sound. Good. Come on, I have a place we can talk." She turned to the barkeep. "Orgnar, hold down the bar a minute, won't you?"

Orgnar grunted in assent.

Delphine let them back down to the secret room, locking the wardrobe door from the inside behind her. They took up positions around the table.

"Now then. I assume you know about... " Delphine started.

"Oh yes! Dragonborn! Indeed, yes! This changes everything, of course. There's no time to lose. We must locate... let me show you. I know I had it here, somewhere... "Esbern rummaged around in his pack.

"Esbern, what... " Delphine said, exasperated.

"Give me... just a moment... " He kept searching. "Ah! Here it is!" He pulled a book out of his pack, pulling it loose with enough force that his hand flung out and he slapped M'rassi's arm with the book.

Onmund shot her an amused smirk.

"Let me show you." Esbern opened the book on the table flicking through the pages. He stopped on one page, jabbing a grubby finger to the paper.

"You see, right here. Sky Haven Temple, constructed around one of the main Akaviri military camps in the Reach, during their conquest of Skyrim."

"Do you know what he's talking about?" Delphine asked M'rassi.

"Shh!" Esbern shushed as M'rassi shook her head, earrings rattling softly.

"This is where they built Alduin's Wall, to set in stone all their accumulated dragonlore. A hedge against the forgetfulness of centuries. A wise and foresighted policy, in the event. Despite the far-reaching fame of Alduin's Wall at the time - one of the wonders of the ancient world - it's location was lost." Esbern explained.

"Esbern, what are you getting at?" Delphine asked.

"You mean... you don't mean to say you haven't heard of Alduin's Wall? Any of you?" He sounded surprised.

Three people shook their heads, no.

"What's Alduin's Wall and what does it have to do with stopping the dragons?" Delphine asked.

"Alduin's Wall was where the ancient Blades recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return. Part history, part prophesy. Its location has been lost for centuries, but I've found it again. Not lost, you see, just forgotten." Esbern slumped his shoulders sadly. "The Blades archives held so many secrets... I was only able to save a few scraps... "

"So you think Alduin's Wall will tell us how to defeat him?" Delphine asked. She wasn't sure if Alduin even existed, but she'd doubted Esbern before, and been proven wrong.

"Well, yes, but... there's no guarantee of course."

"Sky Haven Temple it is, then. I knew you'd have something for us Esbern." Delphine looked to M'rassi who looked a bit impatient. She supposed the conversation had left them out a bit. "I know the area of the Reach that Esbern's talking about. Near what's now known as Karthspire, in the Karth River canyon."

"We know it." M'rassi answered. She and Onmund had been to Markarth a couple of times, and had seen the Karthspire.

"We can meet you there, or travel together, your call."

"Safety in numbers, right? If we run into any Thalmor or dragons, I'd rather have four. We travel together."

"Right. Let's see if we can find this Sky Haven Temple." Delphine said, fishing a thick oilskin cloak out of a chest.

They gathered up all the books, maps and anything else they might need, leaving nothing incriminating, in-case the Thalmor found this place. Delphine slid the hidden door back across, the clothes hanging as well. She made her way out to the common, reluctantly going over to Orgnar, the barkeep.

"Orgnar, this is it. The inn is yours. I'm probably never coming back here." She said sadly, brushing his arm softly with her fingertips. Though their relationship had been an act initially, she had developed feelings for the gruff Nord, making the goodbye all the more painful.

"Take care of yourself, Orgnar. Good bye."

"You too Delphine. You be safe." He gripped her arm briefly.

She steeled herself and turned away.

Esbern, M'rassi and Onmund were waiting at a nearby table, their eyes and ears firmly fixed to the floor.

"Come on, let's go."

It took them four days to get from Riverwood to the head of the Karth River canyon in the Reach. An avalanche had cut off the north road not long after they arrived at the inn, so they'd been forced to go south through Falkreath Hold.

Esbern and Onmund fashioned some snow-shoes for the four of them. They were pretty rough, made from a tear shaped hoop of pine and webbed with leather straps. As long as they got them close to Falkreath, where they could take carriage, they were enough.

Falkreath Hold was known for it's unusually stable climate. Even through the harsh Skyrim winter, snow seldom fell there, and what little did, never lingered. Conversely, during the warmer summer months, Falkreath was cooler than other parts of the province. No one was really sure why things were this way, rumours were abundant, but there was nothing solid. The end result was a permanent autumnal atmosphere throughout the western half of the Hold.

They paid the carriage driver to take them along the Markarth road as far as Karthspire, the well known pinnacle of rock jutting out of the turbulent Karth River. There was a large Forsworn encampment at the base, and they needed to go through it to ascend the jagged peak.

The Forsworn were a large faction of Reachmen, who'd used the Great War to take control of Markarth, and who'd been driven out again some twenty years ago by Ulfric Stormcloak. The Reach had always been a point of contention between Skyrim and neighbouring High Rock, but an agreement had been struck centuries back. The mingled blood of the Nords and Bretons had given rise to the Reachmen, known for their lawlessness, banditry and hedge-magic.

Driven from their city and sheltering in the crags of the canyon, the Forsworn had been terrorising the countryside for many years. If you weren't human you were attacked on sight. Even if you were, if you weren't wearing their clothes you were also attacked. Merchants brave enough to travel the Reach made excellent coin in Markarth.

M'rassi and Onmund had had a few tangles with the Madmen of the Reach, each time barely escaping with their lives. The Forsworn were formidable warriors, and their mages were almost unstoppable.

The four of them snuck into the camp as the sun went down, using the shadows of dusk to hide their passage. They attacked without warning, hurling lightning, fire and ice like daedra. Esbern had even summoned one of the creatures, a dremora reluctant to be torn from his realm at the behest of a mere mortal, but the five of them soon got the job done.

It took an hour to clean camp, Esbern banishing his daedric minion with a wave of his hand once the last Forsworn fell. M'rassi and Onmund spent another ten minutes healing all the cuts, bruises and scratched they'd accumulated. Delphine was especially appreciative, she'd been in the thick of things while the mages picked off the enemy from a distance. It was one of the hairiest fights any of them had been in.

They rested up for a short while after the ordeal, especially since there was no telling what waited for them inside Karthspire. Esbern needed it, though he was too proud to admit it. Eventually as Masser began to rise in the sky, Delphine pushed herself from the bale of hay she'd been leaning on.

"Lead on to Sky Haven Temple." She sounded exhausted, despite the rest.

M'rassi led them up a staircase cut into the side of the spire, emerging onto a ledge with a cave sunken into the rock.

Inside, Delphine and Esbern ran ahead.

A pair of Forsworn sat at a table playing dice. They hadn't noticed the battle outside. The first one fell to Delphine's katana, head rolling across the cavern floor. Esbern finished off the second with a great spear of ice, flinging it like a javelin.

They didn't find any more of the Reachmen inside the cavern, and Esbern grew more excited as they ventured deeper.

They soon came to a cavern that wasn't a cavern. It was a narrow canyon nestled in the very top of Karthspire. It was open to the sky, Masser's pale red light bathing the area in a dim pink glow. At the rear of the cavern was a remarkably well preserved building carved into the stone itself.

"This look's promising." Delphine said, the first to emerge from the small passage.

Esbern drew up short, jaw dropping in awe. M'rassi and Onmund barely managed to stop themselves crashing into him.

"Yes," He said, almost reverently. "Definitely early Akaviri stone work here." He lit a ball of cold burning mage fire to see by. It hovered a couple of inches over his palm.

The other two mages lit their own so they could see better.

"We've got to get this bridge down." Delphine drew their attention to a large stone drawbridge, hinging off a passage on one side of the canyon wall. On the opposite side, a narrow set of stairs led up to a small platform with three pillars, not unlike the ones found in the ancient Nord barrows. The designs were different however, a script like nothing M'rassi had ever seen.

"These pillars must have something to do with it." Delphine said as they all crowded onto the small space.

Esbern crouched to look at the writing better, his eyes not as good as they used to be.

"Yes," He said, tracing his fingers across the carved stone. "These are Akaviri symbols. Let's see... you have the symbol for 'King'... and 'Warrior'... And of course the symbol for 'Dragonborn.' That's the one that appears to have a sort of arrow shape pointing downward at the bottom." He pointed to the appropriate symbol.

"Let's see what we can do then." M'rassi said, walking over to one of the pillars.

Onmund took position at the other. They nodded to each other and pushed the stone carved pillars around so the Dragonborn symbol faced the Blades, grunting with the effort.

"Watch out!" Delphine pulled Esbern out of the way as the stone drawbridge came down, opening the way forward.

"That worked. Let's see what else those old Blades left in our way." Delphine said.

Esbern ran on ahead while the other three followed. The tunnel twisted a few times before they found the elderly Nord looking at a large chamber.

"Wait!" He caught Delphine as she started to go around him.

"Why are you stopping?" She asked, confusion in her eyes.

"We should be careful here. See these symbols on the floor?"

"Hmm, Esbern's right. Looks like pressure plates."

M'rassi studied the floor for a minute. The tiles were beautifully carved, marked with the same symbols as the bridge pillars. Using her keen Khajiiti night vision she could see the whole room was tiled this way. The pattern appeared to be random, but M'rassi could see a path leading out from where they stood to a chain hanging on the far wall. The path was marked by tiles with the Dragonborn symbol. Easy.

"M'rassi has this." She said. Her anticipation was mounting.

"Be careful." Onmund said quietly, plucking her elbow.

She gave him a quick smile, flicking his knee with her tail before she carefully touched a Dragonborn-marked tile with her toe. When nothing happened, she put her full weight onto it. Slowly, she picked her way across the chamber, following the marked path, and on reaching the chain at the other side she gave it a yank.

Every tile on the floor emitted a heavy thunk as the trap was disarmed.

"Looks safe now, let's move." Delphine said, leading Esbern and Onmund across the tiles.

M'rassi quickly followed.

"Yes, yes. I think we must be close to the entrance!" Esbern said excitedly as they ran across another bridge over the narrow canyon.

A couple of corners later and they emerged at the top of the ruin. M'rassi took a moment to look over the narrow crevice before following Esbern Delphine and Onmund down a wide dirt ramp into a second hollow in the spire. Secunda had risen now, just beginning it's transit of Masser.

Three walls of the hollow were richly carved with many strange symbols. A few scrubby trees grew from around the rim of the carvings, their roots finding purchase in any narrow cracks. Opposite the passage was a courtyard, inscribed with a large circular motif. Beyond that, embedded in the wall was the carved likeness of a man's face.

"Wonderful!" Esbern said, his awe showing in both his voice and expression.

M'rassi and Onmund were equally stunned. It was marvellous.

"Remarkably well-preserved, too." Esbern held up his mage flame to better examine the carvings. He looked around for a few minutes before heading to the motif carved into the floor. "Ah... here's the 'blood seal.'" He waved the three of them over. "Another of the lost Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by... well, blood." He turned his head to M'rassi. "Your blood, Dragonborn."

M'rassi examined the seal suspiciously. It could be another trap.

"Look here! You see how the ancient Blades revered Reman Cyrodiil." Esbern had walked over to the carved face, Onmund trailing behind, a look of wonder written on his face. "This whole place appears to be a shrine to Reman. He ended the Akaviri invasion under mysterious circumstances, you recall. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe." Esbern turned back to M'rassi, who was still examining the .

"Esbern's probably right. Try using your blood on the seal." Delphine said, placing a gentle hand on M'rassi's shoulder.

"Alright..." She said, reluctantly.

She knelt down, ears back, tail twitching. She drew her lucky dagger out of her boot, and before she could argue herself out of it, she drew it across the palm of her left hand.

"Aiiish!" She hissed as blood flowed from the cut. She squeezed her hand and dripped a small amount on the stones.

For a moment nothing happened, then all the lines of the seal lit up with a red light and the face of Reman Cyrodiil slid back and up with a rumble of grinding stone. The way was open.

"Wow." M'rassi said simply, before her hand started protesting the cut. She swiftly worked a healing spell and got to her feet.

"After you, Dragonborn. You should have the honour of being the first to set foot in Sky Haven Temple." Delphine urged.

"There's no telling what we might find inside!" Esbern said excitedly.

M'rassi looked to Onmund.

"After you, Dragonborn." He teased, strengthening the jest with a flourishing bow.

She swatted him with her tail and threaded her fingers through his, leading him to the Temple, Delphine and Esbern close behind.

Inside, it was pitch dark. Even M'rassi would barely be able to see if not for her mage light. The air was still and stale. This place had not been opened in many centuries. There were ornate carvings set into the walls every couple of meters, depicting various serpent-like figures.

M'rassi listened carefully, ears twisting this way and that, but heard nothing, not even rats. The Blades joined them, and Esbern slowly led the way up a narrow stone corridor.

"Fascinating! Original Akaviri bas-reliefs... almost entirely intact!" Esbern stopped and held his light up to a carved panel. His excitement was almost child-like, and it was infectious.

M'rassi examined another carving, this one depicting a stylised man tangled with a snake, probably a Tsaesci. Around it were the typical Nordic loops and curls. Onmund gave an appreciative whistle; the workmanship in the stone was amazing. He'd have to make some sketches, later.

"Amazing... you can see how the Akaviri craftsmen were beginning to embrace the more flowing Nordic style... " Esbern said from behind them, peering eagerly at their carving.

"Yes, it certainly is beautiful. I could study this Temple my entire life... " M'rassi nodded, her voice almost excited as Esbern's.

"We're here for Alduin's Wall, right Esbern?" Delphine asked, standing at the top of the stairs.

M'rassi could bee a large chamber behind her.

"Yes, of course. We'll have more time to look around later, I suppose. Let's see what's up ahead." Esbern turned away from the carving reluctantly.

He led them up the passage to a large room. Delphine was nowhere to be seen, she'd carried on into the Temple, exploring. There was a long elegantly carved stone table with several ancient chairs cutting across the middle of the room. There were more of the carvings on the back wall, and off to the left several passages disappeared into the darkness. Living quarters, maybe. The ceiling was high vaulted, held up by many large serpent-carved pillars, with the same careful workmanship of the bas-reliefs.

Along the northern wall was-

"Shor's bones! Here it is! Alduin's Wall... so well preserved... I've never seen a finer example of early second era Akaviri sculptural relief..." Esbern whispered.

The fine crafting of the panels in the entrance corridor paled in comparison of the marvel that was Alduin's Wall. It was twenty meters long and four high, and was so richly carved that M'rassi just stared. Every where she looked, there was another level of detail.

Everywhere there were men and dragons, and men fighting dragons. Every dragon had scales lovingly crafted, and the men each had ornate armour. Even in areas that looked empty from a distance had carvings of thumb high men and dragons. Only a very few chips marred the stunning beauty.

It took their breath away.

"Esbern. We need information, not a lecture on art history." Delphine chided, appearing with her torch above the wall. She started down to join them.

"Yes, yes... let's see what we have... " Esbern was only half listening, holding his light to the wall examining every little detail, much like M'rassi and Onmund were doing. He walked down to the left-hand end of the relief.

M'rassi an Onmund joined him, rendered speechless by the Wall.

"Look, here is Alduin!" Esbern pointed to a dragon breathing fire on some mounted troops, great wings taking up the whole corner. "This panel goes back to the beginning of time, when Alduin and the Dragon Cult ruled over Skyrim."

"Alkosh... " M'rassi breathed as Esbern moved further down the Wall.

"Here, the humans rebel against their dragon overlords - the legendary Dragon War." Esbern moved to the very center of the wall, where three stone figures were looking up at the coiled form of a dragon. Even in stone, it's eye glared malevolently.

"Alduin's defeat is center piece of the Wall. You see, here he is falling from the sky. The Nord Tongues - masters of the Voice - are arrayed against him."

"By the Nine!" Onmund whispered softly, and M'rassi gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"So, does it show how they defeated him? Isn't that why we're here?" Delphine asked, arms crossed impatiently.

Esbern sighed loudly. "Patience, my dear. The Akaviri were not a straight-forward people. Everything is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism." He looked closely, then waved M'rassi and Onmund closer.

"Yes, yes. This here, coming from the mouths of the Nord heroes - this is the Akaviri symbol for 'Shout'" He traced the pattern lightly with his finger as if the Wall might suddenly fall apart before him. "But there's no way to know what Shout is meant."

"You mean they used a Shout to defeat Alduin? You're sure?" Delphine asked in disbelief.

"Seems that way." M'rassi was tracing the stone likeness of Alduin's snout with her fingers.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Presumably something specific to dragons, or even Alduin himself. Remember, this is where they recorded everything they knew of Alduin and his return."

"So we're looking for a Shout then. Damn it." Delphine swore.

M'rassi pulled herself from the Wall to look at her.

"Have you ever heard of such a thing? A Shout that can knock a dragon out of the sky?" Delphine asked the Khajiit.

"Nothing I've heard about. But then, I don't know all the Words of Power yet. The Greybeards might know." M'rassi shrugged.

Onmund and Esbern were whispering to each other about some detail in the carving.

"You're probably right," Delphine sighed, leaning against a table that groaned loudly in protest. "I was hoping to avoid involving them in all this, but it seems we have no choice."

"What do you have against the Greybeards?" M'rassi asked, twitching her ears in curiosity.

"If they had their way, you'd do nothing but sit up on their mountain with them and talk to the sky, or whatever it is they do. The Greybeards are so afraid of power they won't use it. Think about it. Have they tried to stop the Civil War, or done anything about Alduin? No." She slapped her fist into her hand. "They're afraid of you, of your power. Trust me, there is no reason to be afraid. Think of Tiber Septim. Do you think he'd have founded the Empire if he'd listened to the Greybeards?"

"You have a point, but so do they. Power is dangerous, it's not something to bandy about." M'rassi folded her arms.

"Only if you don't know how to use it. All the great heroes have had to learn to use their power. Those that shrank from their destiny... well, you've never heard of them, have you? And there are the villains - those that misused their power. There's always a choice and there's always a risk. But if you live in fear of what might go wrong, you'll end up doing nothing. Like the Greybeards up on their mountain."

M'rassi could see Delphine's point. She had a lot to think on.

"I'll see what Master Arngeir knows about that Shout." She sighed.

"Right. Good thing they've already let you into their little cult. Not likely they'd help Esbern or me if we came calling." The Breton snorted a bitter laugh. "We'll look around Sky Haven Temple and see what else the old Blades might have left for us. It's a better hideout than I could have hoped for."

M'rassi sighed deeply, puffing out her muzzle and whiskers as she exhaled. She turned back to where Onmund and Esbern were still debating.

"Look, here. In the third panel." The elder man waved the younger one over.

M'rassi leaned on the table beside Delphine, eliciting an even louder groan from the aged wood.

"The prophesy which brought the Akaviri to Tamriel in the first place, in search of the Dragonborn." Esbern was saying.

Onmund was studying a line of small carved warriors, blades raised high.

"Those are the Akaviri - the Blades - you see their distinctive long swords. Now they kneel, their ancient mission fulfilled, as the last Dragonborn contends with Alduin at the end of time." He pointed to a heroic figure duelling a dragon, shield raised high, deflecting the stone flames.

M'rassi left the table and went to look.

"Are you paying attention, Delphine? You might learn something of our own history."

"Yes." Delphine called over, though it was only half-true.

"I know the prophesy by heart. Once all Blades knew it." He reached up and traced a jagged line broken into eight pieces.

"When misrule takes it's place at the eight corners of the world."

Esbern moved his hand to gingerly touch a strange golem-like figure.

"When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped."

M'rassi and Onmund both fixed their full attention on the aged man. He was reciting the same prophesy Tolfdir had read out at the College. Gods, it seemed a lifetime ago now.

Esbern stepped back and looked at a strange circular pattern that almost resembled a face. Beneath it there was the vague impression of a mountain.

"When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles."

M'rassi reached up and traced a daedric glyph, a carving of White-Gold Tower above it.

"When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls." Esbern recited. He ran his hand over a carving of High Hrothgar, the mountain cloven by a carved crack, wide enough to fit his hand in.

"When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding." He traced the crack down to the heroic figure and his draconian assailant.

"The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn." He finished.

"I'm going to look around some more. See what the old Blades left for us." Delphine left the table.

"Yes, yes. That's an excellent idea. Who knows what other lost treasures we might discover." Esbern said, not taking his eyes of the Wall.

M'rassi traced the heroic figure's face. If the prophesy was correct, this was supposed to be her. She gingerly touched the proud jaw, the strong arm, the long sword and curved shield. The figure embodied everything the old Blades were looking for in a hero.

How was she supposed to be this? A weedy Khajiit mage?

"I... I need to think... and read... and think..." She drew her hand away, not wanting to look upon the Wall anymore.


	12. The Throat of the World

**Chapter Twelve: The Throat of the World.**

Onmund found her outside just before dawn.

She was sitting under an ornate stone-carved pagoda out on the northern terrace of Sky Haven Temple. She sat cross-legged, eyes half-closed with her hands draped limply in her lap. Her ears were resting in a relaxed position, and not even her tail was moving, lying loosely curled on the dirt beside her. She was missing her winter cloak, but seemed to not feel the light snowfall whirling around her, or the chilly wind that brought it. Beside her was the small ceramic jar of moon sugar.

He was surprised she didn't acknowledge him when he approached. The only sign he got that she was aware of him was when he sat down. Her whiskers twitched and her tail shifted so that he didn't sit on it, before curling automatically around his waist. It felt ice-cold under the thick fur.

She was very deep in thought. Meditating. Then again, she did have a lot to think about. His own mind was turmoil thanks to the Blades and Alduin's Wall. Better to let her think, she would address him in her own time. So he simply sat beside her, running his own mind in circles.

She'd sat at the table in the main hall reading for hours, while he had sketched Alduin's Wall in his journal, Esbern helping him annotate the details. At some point M'rassi had vanished, presumably to sleep, so he took her place at the table and began to read himself.

There were a great many books, many of them rare, scattered across the table. There were historic tomes, like 'The Great War', 'The Oblivion Crisis', 'Annals of the Dragonguard' and 'The Rise and Fall of the Blades.' Another pile contained those concerning the Dragonborn Prophecies. 'Dragon Language: Myth no more', 'The Book of the Dragonborn', 'Songs of the Return,' 'The Dragon War' and the like.

A small pile had religious texts and folklore; such as Esbern's annotated copy of the 'Anuad', 'Alduin is Real and he 'ent Akatosh', 'The Monomyth' and 'Olaf and the Dragon'. Still more books had a more metaphysical nature. Tomes like 'The Alduin/Akatosh Dichotomy,' 'The Seven Fights of the Aldudagga' and 'Reality and Other Falsehoods', stacked in a rough pile.

A neat pile of parchment contained M'rassi's notes from the books. He couldn't read them though. M'rassi was too proud to admit it to anyone but him, but although she could read Tamrielic, she couldn't write it well at all, so all her notes were in the elegant script of Ta'agra. He'd tried to teach her, and the first couple of sentences were formed in misshapen letters before she reverted back to her native tongue.

By the time he'd finished reading the piles of books, his head hurt from information overload. Some of the concepts were beyond him, fascinating though they were. Maybe he'd study them further when they went back to the College. If they went back to the College. There was always the chance that this all could go very badly wrong.

She hadn't come back by the time he'd finished reading, and he got worried. He roamed the halls of the Temple searching, finding Esbern and Delphine snoring away on a pair of rough cots in what appeared to be the barracks. He'd found the door onto the northern terrace just before dawn, and slipped out into the chilly air.

By the time the sun rose, the snow had stopped and the clouds were marching west, looking to bring clear skies for the day. The sun peeked through the departing clouds, coating the snow-bound Reach in a brilliant orange light.

She gave a deep sigh and shuddered.

"M'rassi?" Onmund asked.

"Onmund, I would speak to you." She said, her voice calm. "I have been meditating... and I think you should go back to the College." She continued, avoiding his gaze.

"What? Why?" He asked, confused.

She thought for a long time before answering.

"I've been meditating on the Dragonborn Prophesy, and everything that's happened since I came to Skyrim. I turned my gaze inward and looked at my heart and soul. I've accepted that I'm Dragonborn. I've been fighting it all this time, never quite believing it and treating the Thu'um like a neat trick."

She took a deep breath, silencing Onmund with a finger when she saw him about to speak.

"I have seen myself for who, and what, I truly am. I have seen the truth of my purpose and my road will be long and perilous. It may even claim my life, and I accept that. I am ready to be the Dragonborn the prophesy calls for, even if it kills me. I cannot be M'rassi any more, I must be the Dragonborn of legend."

Still avoiding looking at him, she reached over and took his hand, clutching it tightly, as if he would turn and run away.

"The one thing I cannot accept is the danger you will be in if you stay with me. If something happened to you... No! No, I couldn't bear it! You must go back to the College. You will be safe there."

Onmund was silent for a while, chewing on her words, which made complete sense. That didn't mean she was right, however.

"No." He said simply.

"You must!" She finally looked at him and he saw the anguish in her eyes.

"No. You're wrong, but not entirely wrong. It is good that you have accepted your role as the Dragonborn. But think about what Master Arngeir said, about striving to achieve harmony between your inner and outer self. I know you, M'rassi, perhaps better than you know yourself."

It was his turn to silence her, pressing a finger against her furry muzzle.

"You are more than just the Dragonborn. You are M'rassi of Orcrest, proud mage, my best friend and the woman I care for. You are kind, brave and curious, and even infuriatingly stubborn at times, but that's what makes you,_ you_. You're my friend first, and the Dragonborn second, and I don't abandon my friends when they need me. If you do this, push me away now and deny everything that makes you who you are, you'll never find that balance, and you know it."

M'rassi could feel the truth of his words. Deep down she knew she needed help, and here Onmund was, willing to stand by her side to the bitter end. With a great sigh she turned to the dark-haired Nord.

"You're right. I wouldn't. But I'll not make you follow me. It is your choice."

"Then it's settled, I coming. You don't have to do this alone. And if you have any doubts along the way, I'll be there for you. We can at least have each other." He squeezed her hand.

"Then I will go gladly, knowing you are by my side."

"Now and forever." Onmund said without thinking, then blushed. Those were the traditional words of marriage, though M'rassi did not know this. Still, he meant them. He would follow her to Sovngarde itself if she asked it of him.

"Now and forever." She agreed, though she wondered at his odd phrase.

When Onmund heard those words he pulled her to him and kissed her. She reciprocated, wrapping her arms around him. Gods, he wanted her. Their kiss became more feverish and urgent, and their passion consumed them.

M'rassi climbed onto his lap, plucking at his belt. She pulled off his robes, and swiftly followed with his under-tunic. His chest-hair stood on end when it was exposed to the chilly air. She helped him remove her own robes, her fur doing exactly the same thing. She curled her tail around his waist, tantalising him with the soft fur against his bare skin.

She pushed him back so he was laying down and she quickly removed his boots and trousers. She then stripped of the remainder of her own clothing, stretching luxuriously as Onmund propped himself up on his elbows, drinking in her body with his eyes. Gods, he wasn't dreaming again, was he?

M'rassi crawled onto him gracefully, every inch the natural hunter, pressing her furry body to his pale flesh.

Onmund looked up at her anxiously. "What if Esb-"

M'rassi silenced him with a kiss, wordlessly flinging a Lightning Rune at the Temple doors. Anyone foolish enough to come through those doors deserved what they got. She tugged at the strings of Onmund's smallclothes, as he stroked the soft fur on her hips with both hands. She used her tail to tickle the inside of his leg, relishing the way his face turned pink and eager. She gave him khajiiti kisses, tracing his jaw with soft laps of her rough tongue, thoroughly enjoying the way his fingers were timidly exploring her body and the feel of his need pressed between their hips.

Onmund's movements were clumsy and inexperienced, he hadn't done this before. M'rassi didn't seem to care, so he tried to listen to what his body was telling him, but he was overwhelmed by the sensation of her body pressed against his and he wasn't sure what he should do. Thankfully, she took charge. She propped herself up with one arm, and reaching down with the other, she helped guide him into her.

"Oh gods!" Onmund gasped, his voice husky.

M'rassi smiled in agreement. It had been a long time since she'd lain with a man. The look of bliss on the Nord's face confirmed what she suspected, he'd never lain with a woman.

Her tail curled high when she began to move, setting a slow, gentle pace. She leaned down to snake her arms under his shoulders, and Onmund grabbed her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Knowing the Nord would not last, she flared her magicka, sending the threads of raw unfocussed magic in all directions. The scent of pine and frost wafted as Onmund did the same a moment later with a confused grunt. She plucked the threads of his magic, twining her own with his - another kind of love-making.

With a strangled moan and a shudder, Onmund reached his peak quickly, clutching her tightly. M'rassi kept plucking at his magic, bringing her own pinnacle swiftly closer, and she encouraged the Nord to keep going just a moment longer. For her. Soon she hit her limit and cried to the gods in her native tongue. Panting, they both sagged, their energy spent and their bodies sated.

They lay in each others arms in the morning sun whispering sweet nothings to each other, and for the time being all seemed right in the world.

"Master Arngeir. I would speak with you." M'rassi asked.

"Sky guard you, Dovahkiin. Ask your questions." Arngeir smiled.

"I need to learn the Shout used to defeat Alduin." She told him.

Arngeir's face became cold steel.

"Where did you learn of that? Who have you been talking to?" He sounded almost angry.

But M'rassi had to ask, there might be no other way to defeat the World-Eater. "It was recorded on Alduin's Wall." She told him the simple truth.

"The Blades!" For a moment Arngeir sounded surprised. "Of course. They specialise in meddling in matters they barely understand. Their reckless arrogance knows no bounds. They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom. Have you learned nothing from us? Would you simply be a tool in the hands of the Blades, to be used for their own purposes?" Now he really was angry.

"The Blades just want to defeat Alduin. Don't you?" M'rassi asked, confused by Arngeir's anger.

"What I want is irrelevant. This Shout was used once before, was it not? And here we are again. Have you considered that Alduin was not meant to be defeated? Those who overthrew him in ancient times only postponed the day of reckoning, they did not stop it. If the world is meant to end, so be it. Let it end and be reborn."

"So you won't help me?" M'rassi frowned. She'd not expected this.

"No. Not now. Not until you return to the path of wisdom." Master Arngeir dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

M'rassi whirled around, tail lashing angrily. She hadn't gone more than a few steps when the mountain started shaking.

"Arngeir. Rek los Dovahkiin, Strundu'ul. Rek fen tinvaak Paarthurnax." It was Master Einarth; striding towards Arngeir slowly but with clear purpose.

"Dragonborn... wait." Arngeir said as Borri and Wulfgar joined them, seeming to appear from thin air.

M'rassi paused, waiting for him to speak, a hand on Onmund's shoulder weaving a healing spell. The poor man had been unprepared for Einarth's words, and his head felt like a thousand drums were playing inside. Blood dripped from his nose and ears.

"Forgive me, I was... intemperate. I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement. Master Einarth reminded me of my duty." Arngeir apologised. "The decision whether or not to help you is not mine to make."

"You can teach me this Shout?"

"No. I cannot teach it to you because I do not know it. It is called 'Dragonrend', but its Words of Power are unknown to us. We do not regret this loss. Dragonrend holds no place in the Way of the Voice."

"If the Shout is lost, then how can we defeat Alduin?" Onmund asked, rubbing his still sore head.

"Only Paarthurnax, master of our order, can answer that question, if he so chooses."

"Then I need to speak with Paarthurnax." M'rassi told him.

"You weren't ready. You still aren't ready. But thanks to the Blades, you now have questions only Paarthurnax can answer. He lives in seclusion on the very peak of the mountain. He speaks to us only rarely, and never to outsiders. Being allowed to see him is a great privilege. "

"So how do I get up the mountain to see him?"

"Only those who's Voice is strong can find the path. Come." Arngeir gestured. "We will teach you a Shout to open the way to Paarthurnax."

The six of them headed out to the courtyard and up to a large platform where a bonfire burned. An ancient stone arch framed the road up the mountain, the deadly storm raging within.

Arngeir waved her over to stand in front of him.

"The path to Paarthurnax lies through this gate. I will show you how to open the way. Lok... Vah... Koor." He whispered, the word appearing on the flagstones in the familiar fiery writing.

M'rassi gazed at the words as they bored into her skull. Sky. Spring. Summer. The Shout was simple, but she couldn't see how to focus the words into a proper Thu'um.

"I will grant to my understanding of Clear Skies. This is your final gift from us, Dragonborn. Use it well." Arngeir bowed, spreading his palms.

M'rassi felt the connection to Arngeir's mind open, and she saw in him the reason for his earlier anger. He had been a Blades agent, long ago. Before even Esbern. He'd seen the truth of them, of what they'd become after the fall of the Septim dynasty. It had outraged him, so he left, turning to the Way of the Voice. He did not deny M'rassi these memories, wishing only her understanding. He poured his knowledge into her, showing her how to manipulate the words into a Shout to banish the very clouds themselves, bringing a temporary summer. When she understood, he gently shut the connection.

"Thank you, Master Arngeir. I will try."

"Clear Skies will blow away the mist, but only for a time. The path to Paarthurnax is perilous, not to be embarked upon lightly. Keep moving, stay focussed on your goal, and you will reach the summit."

"I understand."

M'rassi turned to the whirling snow in the arch and drew her breath.

"Lok-Vah-Koor!" She Shouted.

Her Thu'um burst from her mouth, hitting the storm in the arch like a rampaging mammoth. The clouds were tossed aside, the wind stopped and the sun shone through, lighting the path in its warm glow. The road, as far as she could see, was clear.

It took them three hours to reach the summit. The path was icy, the wind strong. The storm kept trying to roll its way back across the mountaintop, but each time M'rassi Shouted it away so they could climb higher. Not even the agile mountain goats came this high, no doubt because of the ever-present storm.

The summit of the Throat of the World, was little more than a small ledge of rock, half the size of High Hrothgar's courtyard. Jagged crags dotted the rim, and there was a Word Wall, half of it torn clean away and buried in the snow.

Not far from the Wall an odd vortex of snow swirled, despite the clear sky. Inside the maelstrom the air wavered, like heat waves rising from the desert. It almost hurt to look at it, like it was something inherently wrong with the world.

They heard a great clap of gigantic wings and a dragon flew overhead. Onmund readied his magic for a fight, but M'rassi stopped him, grasping his arm and shaking her head. She'd suspected this.

The dragon swooped around the very peak of the mountain, flared his ragged wings, and landed in the snow before them. The gust from his wings kicked up a fluffy of snow, and the impact of the massive dragon shook the ground. He turned and approached him with the peculiar gait that all dragons shared, walking on his legs and folded wings.

Onmund retreated, but M'rassi held her ground, staring at the great dragon.

"Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax." He said, his draconic voice both deep and melodic.

Paarthurnax was much larger than many of the dragons M'rassi had killed. Almost as large as the black dragon himself. His scales were a pale sage green, and his wings were battered. He had a beard-like formation of spines along his chin and jaw, many of them chipped or broken off entirely. His right horn was broken off at about halfway, and the other was as long as her leg. His eyes were a deep blue with pupils that were thin slits. They regarded her with an unknowable draconian expression.

"Who are you? What brings you to my strunmah... my mountain?" Paarthunax asked.

"I think you already know who I am." M'rassi told him.

Paarthurnax laughed, a great huffing sound, warm breath coming out in puffy clouds.

"Yes. Vahzah. You speak true, Dovahkiin. Forgive me. It has been long since I held tinvaak with a stranger. I gave into the temptation to prolong our speech."

"Then why do you live on a mountain if you love conversation?" M'rassi asked. Onmund had been right, she could not deny her curiosity.

"Evenaar bahlok. There are many hungers it is better to deny than to feed. Dreh ni nahkip. Discipline against the lesser aids in qahnaar... denial of the greater. Tell me. Why do you come here, volaan? Why do you intrude on my meditation?" Paarthurnax asked, tossing his horns.

"I have come to learn the Dragonrend Shout. I have need of it. Could you please teach me?"

Paarthurnax gave a low growl like a sigh. "Drem. Patience." He said. "There are formalities to be observed, at the first meeting of two of the dov."

Paarthurnax twisted his body around to face the remnants of the Word Wall. He angled his head so one great eye was fixed on the comparatively tiny Khajiit.

"By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu'um! Feel it in your bones. Match it, if you are Dovahkiin!"

Paarthurnax reared back his massive head.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" He Shouted at the broken Wall, etching a Word of Power into the stone with his torrent of flame.

M'rassi could feel the heat of the fire from where she was standing.

"The Word calls to you. Go to it."

M'rassi approached the new Word, which glowed a dull red in the cold stone. As she gazed at the word, it seared itself into her mind. Yol. Fire.

"A gift, Dovahkiin. Yol. Understand Fire as the dov do."

Paarthurnax bowed his great head at M'rassi, the familiar silvery threads flowing from him to her, like they did when she killed a dragon. But Paarthurnax was very much alive, and the connection was more like the one the Greybeards had used. Paarthurnax, however, had hidden his mind from her. She could not see feel anything about him except the slow passage of many long years. He poured his knowledge into her, filling her mind with the word Yol, showing her how to use it like the dov, dragons, did. He severed the connection.

"Now, show me what you can do. Greet me not as Khajiit, but as dovah!"

"Yol!" M'rassi Shouted at him, her Thu'um a small puff of flame which passed harmlessly over Paarthurnax's scaled head.

"Aaah... Yes." He breathed deeply. "Sossedov los mul. The dragonblood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind." He shuffled around to face her again, gouging out deep furrows in the snow with his wings.

M'rassi sat down on the frozen ground, folding her winter cloak beneath her. She wrapped her tail around her waist, ears forward, and whiskers splayed. Student and Master. She was eager and astonished for this chance to converse with a dragon. He had humbled her by greeting her as an equal.

"So. You have made your way here, to me. No easy task for a joor... mortal. Even for one of Dovah Sos. Dragonblood." He sat back also, sitting on his haunches, pushing his shoulders high, great tail sweeping aside the snow. His neck arched so he could regard her. "What would you ask of me?"

"Master Paarthurnax. I wish to learn the Dragonrend Shout. Can you teach me?" M'rassi asked respectfully.

"Ah. I have expected you. Prodah. You would not come all this way for tinvaak with an old dovah. No. You seek your weapon against Alduin."

"The Greybeards did not want me to come at all."

"Hmm." The dragon rumbled thoughtfully. "Yes. They are very protective of me. Bahlaan fahdonne. But I do not know the Thu'um you seek. Krosis. It cannot be known to me. Your kind - joorre - mortals - created it as a weapon against the dov... dragons. Our hadrimme, our minds cannot even... comprehend its concepts."

"How can I learn it, then?" M'rassi asked. If Paarthurnax and the Greybeards did not know it, who did?

"Drem. All in good time. First, a question for you." He shook his shoulders, the long spines on his back tossing to and fro. "Why do want to learn this Thu'um?"

M'rassi thought hard on the question. Why did she? She wanted to defeat Alduin. Why? Alduin would devour the world. Why did she want to stop it? Because the Blades told her to? Her thoughts drifted to Onmund. Her ears told her he was scribbling in his journal again. She thought of all the things he made her feel, and thought of the beauty in the world he was a part of. She felt the thrill of the hunt, the tranquillity of magic and the sorrow of loss. She knew her answer.

"I like this world. I do not want it to end."

"Pruzah. As good a reason as any. There are many who feel as you do, although not all. Some would say that all things must end, so that the next can come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply the Egg for the next kalpa? Lein vokiin? Would you stop the next world being born?" Paarthurnax challenged.

M'rassi paused. She did not know how to answer this. What he said was true enough, but she really didn't want to think too hard on it. She would meditate on it later.

"The next world will have to take care of itself." She shrugged.

"Paaz. A fair answer. Ro fus... maybe you only balance the forces that work to quicken the end of this world. Even we who ride the currents of Time cannot see past Time's end. Wuldsetiid los tahrodiis. Those who try to hasten the end, may delay it. Those who work to delay the end, may bring it closer. But you have indulged my weakness for speech long enough. Krosis. Now I will answer your question." Paarthurnax rumbled a sigh.

M'rassi looked at him expectantly, her tail giving an eager twitch.

"Do you know why I live here, at the peak of the Monahven - what you name Throat of the World?"

"I've not really thought about it." M'rassi replied honestly.

"This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim. Zok revak strunmah. The great mountain of the world. Here the ancient Tongues, the first mortal masters of the Voice, brought Alduin to battle and defeated him." The mighty dragon explained.

"Using the Dragonrend Shout, right?"

Paarthurnax rumbled. "Yes and No. Viik nuz ni kron. Alduin was not truly defeated either. If he was, you would not be here today, seeking to... defeat him."

"A fair point." M'rassi smiled.

"The Nords of those days used the Dragonrend Shout to cripple Alduin. But this was not enough. Ok mulaag unslaad. It was the Kel... the Elder Scroll. They used it to... cast him adrift on the currents of time."

"So you're saying they sent him forward in time?" M'rassi asked, incredulous.

Paarthurnax gave a deep rumble. "Not intentionally. Some hoped he would be gone forever, forever lost. Meyye. I knew better," He growled. "Tiid bo amativ. Time flows ever onward. One day he would surface. Which is why I live here. For thousands of mortal years I have waited. I knew where he would emerge, but not when."

"So what exactly happened?"

"Tiid krent. Time was... shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin. If you brought that Kel, that Elder Scroll back here... to the Tiid-Ahraan, the Time-Wound..." Paarthurnax gestured with his long snout at the mirage-vortex. "With the Elder Scroll that was used to break Time, you may be able to... cast yourself back. To the other end of the break. You could learn Dragonrend from those who created it."

"Do you know where I can find the Elder Scroll?" M'rassi asked.

"Krosis. No. I know little of what has passed below in the long years I have lived here. You are likely better informed that I."

"Hmm..." M'rassi laid her ears back. "Perhaps Arch-Mage Aren would know."

"Trust your instincts, Dovahkiin. Your blood will show you the way." Paarthurnax stretched his neck and ruffled his wings.

"I have more questions, Master Paarthurnax."

"Geh. But first, I have another question for you, Dovahkiin." Paarthurnax peered down his long snout at her.

"Of course, Master Paarthurnax." M'rassi agreed, silently hoping it would not be like the last few he'd asked.

"Who is he? Why bring him to my strunmah?" Paarthurnax gestured with his nose at Onmund, who was still scribbling in his journal.

"He is… " M'rassi tried to find the words in the jumble of the dragon tongue she knew that Paarthurnax might understand. "He is my sil-fahdon."

"Geh. Hin ahmul. I know of such things. They are common among joorre." And before M'rassi could correct him, the massive dragon twisted his head to the Nord. "You there! What are you doing over there, mortal?" He called.

Onmund jerked, a mixture of surprise and fright to find the dragon addressing him. He gaped like a fish for several moments.

"Sketching?" He finally answered timidly.

"Show me." Paarthurnax commanded.

Onmund cautiously approached, holding his battered journal so the dragon could see.

"Closer." Paarthurnax rumbled.

Onmund held the open page to the dragon's eye, showing a sketch of Paarthurnax and M'rassi talking. Scribbled around the picture were some notes on the history of this place.

"Paaz fiik. A fair likeness." Paarthurnax said. "Sit, Fahdon." His head turned back to the Khajiit as the Nord sat down beside her. He watched with bemusement as she curled her tail around the man's waist. "You may ask your questions, Dovahkiin. I am enjoying holding tinvaak with you."

"What exactly _is_ an Elder Scroll? I've heard of them, but I've never heard of one being used in that fashion." M'rassi tilted her head.

"Hmm..." The dragon rumbled. "How to explain in your tongue? The dov have words for such things that joorre do not. It is... an artefact from outside time. It does not exist, but it has always existed. Rah wahlaan. They are... hmm... fragments of creation. The Kelle, or Elder Scrolls, as you name them, they have often been used for prophesy. Yes, your prophesy comes from an Elder Scroll. But this is only a small part of their power. Zofaas suleyk."

"How could an Elder Scroll cast Alduin through time?" Onmund asked, finding his courage.

Paarthurnax twisted his mighty head to peer at the Nord, who shrank back.

"Vomindok. I do not know. Perhaps in the very doing they erased the knowing of it from Time itself. The dov are children of Akatosh. Thus we are especially... attuned to the flow of Time. Perhaps also uniquely vulnerable." The dragon snorted in mock annoyance. "I warned them against such rash action. Even I could not foresee its consequences. Nust ni hon. They would not listen."

"You were there?" M'rassi blurted.

"Yes. There were a few of us that rebelled against Alduin's thur... his tyranny. We aided the humans in his overthrow. But they did not trust us. Ni ov. Their inner councils were hidden from us. I was far from here on the day of Alduin's downfall. But all the dov felt the... sundering of Time itself."

"So what should we do with the Elder Scroll when we find it?" M'rassi asked.

"Return it here, to the Tiid-Ahraan. Then... Kelle vomindok. Nothing is certain with such things... But I believe the Scroll's bond with the Tiid-Ahraan will allow you a... a seeing, a vision of the moment of it's creation. Then you will feel - know - Dragonrend, in the power of it's first expression." Paarthurnax bared his molars in an approximation of a smile. "You will see them... wuth fahdonne... my friends - Hakon, Gormlaith, Felldir."

"Who are they?"

"The first mortals that I taught the Thu'um - the first Tongues. The leaders of the rebellion against Alduin. They were mighty, in their day. Even to attempt to defeat Alduin... sahrot hunne. The Nords have had many heroes since, but none greater." Paarthurnax's eyes were glazed over in nostalgia.

"So what does Dragonrend actually do?"

"I cannot tell you in detail. I never heard it used. Kogaan. It was the first Thu'um created solely by mortals. It was said to force a dragon to experience to concept of Mortality. A truly vonmindoraan... incomprehensible idea to the immortal dov."

M'rassi could see what Master Arngeir meant about Dragonrend having no place in the Way of the Voice. It sounded brutal. Still, if it was the only way to stop Alduin...

"You're the Master of the Greybeards. Do others come here to train?" M'rassi asked.

"I have taught the Way of the Voice for centuries, and the Thu'um since long before that. But no, Dovahkiin. Others do not come here to train anymore. Saraan. You are the first in over a hundred years. I meditate on the Rotmulaag - the Words of Power. I counsel in their use. It is enough for me."

"You meditate on the Words? How?" Her earrings clinked as she tilted her head.

"Knowing a Word of Power is to take it's meaning into yourself. Contemplate the meaning of a Rotmulaag. You will become closer to that Word, as it fills your inner self. Will I teach you, Dovahkiin?"

"Please." M'rassi bowed her head.

They meditated on three of the Words of Power for another hour, before M'rassi and Onmund took their leave to go to the College and ask about the Elder Scroll. Paarthurnax perched himself on the broken Wall and watched them leave.

"Su'um ahrk morah." He called as they disappeared down the mountain.


	13. Discerning the Transmundane

**Chapter Thirteen: Discerning the Transmundane.**

They didn't go directly to the College.

They'd argued fiercely over whether they should, or if they should seek out more Words of Power. Onmund had insisted on going straight to Winterhold, that finding a way to learn Dragonrend and defeat Alduin was more important. M'rassi had countered with the need to develop her Thu'um further. If she came across Alduin unprepared, he would kill her, then where would they be? No, it was better to learn as many Shouts as she could before going after the World-Eater. Just in case. Onmund had backed down eventually. Sometimes the Khajiit was just as stubborn as a Nord.

They argued again trying to find the most efficient order to search Arngeir's points of interest, marked in red on M'rassi's increasingly tattered map. Eventually they agreed on a path, and it was in the early days of Evening Star when they finally made their way to the College of Winterhold.

They found Faralda using her fire magic to melt the snow and ice from the stone bridge. She gently heated the rock, knowing it would stay warm enough for the snow to melt and the water to run off. She'd been performing this same ritual every winter for decades and had it down to a fine art.

The High Elf had spotted them coming up the slushy road one unusually sunny day. "Ah, we were wondering if you two were ever going to come back." She said, smiling.

"Good to see you, Faralda. Unfortunately, we're not back for good yet. We need to speak to the Arch-Mage if we could." M'rassi told the tall elf.

"Of course. Aren told me to keep an eye out for the pair of you. He wanted me to bring you to see him. Come with me." Faralda beckoned for them to follow.

"Thank you for your book, Faralda. I've learned much from it. Onmund too. Some of the techniques have saved our hides more than once."

"You're welcome, Apprentice. I have put together another, if you're still interested in destruction magic."

"That would be appreciated." M'rassi inclined her head respectfully.

"It is nice to have a student that appreciates my work, even if you're not actually here. That J'zargo is only interested in learning more and more powerful spells, and not the finer points of control. I shall enjoy teaching the pair of you when you return for good."

Faralda led them across the bridge into the College, and up to the Arch-Mage's quarters, where they found the Dark Elf pottering around with some potions. Aren thanked Faralda then dismissed her, and checked the room for the Thalmor advisor. Once satisfied that the mer was nowhere to be found, he sat the two apprentices down.

"Please tell me all that's happened over the last few months. I've tried to get word of you, but you've been keeping a surprisingly low profile."

So M'rassi and Onmund told him everything about the journey they'd made since they left the College. From High Hrothgar and the Greybeards, to Ustengrav, Kynesgrove and Riften. They told him of Sky Haven Temple and Alduin's Wall, but omitted the location. They told him of their task of finding an Elder Scroll, but they revealed nothing of Paarthurnax or his draconic nature. Those were secrets that were not theirs to give up.

Onmund showed him certain pages from his journal and Aren was very impressed with his copy of Alduin's Wall. He was particularly interested in the notes the Nord had made on the dragon language, intrigued by the strange angular script.

When they were done, Aren leaned back in his chair, puffing his breath.

"An Elder Scroll, you say? I'm afraid that I don't really know much about them. I've devoted my life to other pursuits, you see. You might want to try Urag in the Arcaneum. He might know. In the meantime I'm sure a hot meal would not go amiss."

"And a warm bed." M'rassi added.

"And a _bath_… " Onmund said, making a show of picking dirt out from under his fingernails.

With a laugh, the Arch-Mage dismissed them, calling for a servant to prepare the bathroom in the Hall of Attainment and find some clean clothes. They went down to the dining hall, a floor below the Arcaneum, where they begged a hot meal from a grumpy Imperial woman. They wolfed down their meal in silence and dropped their gear into M'rassi's room.

The servant had made the baths nice and hot, dripping a small amount of scented oil into them. She ushered them into the separate compartments and took away their filthy clothes for washing. M'rassi snuck into Onmund's nook to wash. It felt good to scrub all the travel grime from their skin and fur; it had felt like a lifetime since either of them had had a hot bath. They snuck back over to M'rassi's tub, leaving behind the filthy water of Onmund's in favour of the clean water to soak in.

"This was a good idea." Onmund sighed, curling his arm around M'rassi's shoulders as they settled into the clean water.

"I could go to sleep right now." She answered softly, head on his shoulder, arm draped lazily across his chest. She licked a few stray drops of water from his braid. Onmund snorted as her rough tongue tickled his neck.

After a thorough soaking, they found the clean robes left by the servant and went back upstairs. They pulled the curtain across the arched doorframe and managed to squeeze the two of them into the narrow bed. The servant had been kind enough to slip a sealed metal box of hot coals between the sheets making the bed toasty warm. Soon slumber took them, driving the travel-weariness from their bones.

Someone woke them a few short hours later by scratching on the curtain.

"M'rassi? Is that you? Are you back?" It was that Dark Elf, Brelyna.

"Hmm? What?" M'rassi asked, groggy. She'd had nowhere near enough sleep.

The curtain was pulled back, flooding the small alcove with light. M'rassi sat bolt upright and blinked owlishly at the Dark Elf. Onmund, normally a heavy sleeper, pushed himself to his elbows and squinted at the intruder.

"Oh, gods! I'm sorry!" Brelyna whipped the curtain shut again.

J'zargo laughed. He'd been standing beside the Dunmer. M'rassi had caught sight of the cat-man's striped tail as the curtain shut.

"Hang on." M'rassi rolled out of bed and pulled on her undershirt and trousers. She left her robes in a pile on the floor, and nudged them under the bed with a foot.

Onmund blearily pulled on his trousers, looked for his under-tunic but didn't spot it kicked halfway under the bed. He gave up and slouched on the bed beside M'rassi.

"It's okay. We're decent… " M'rassi glanced at Onmund, who was rubbing his eyes. "Enough."

Brelyna pushed the curtain open again, slower this time.

"Sorry. I was… I saw your curtain was shut… "

M'rassi waved the other two apprentices into her room. Brelyna sat in the only chair, while M'rassi and Onmund took up the bed. J'zargo was forced to lean on the wall, a bemused expression at the entire situation.

"So... When did this happen?" Brelyna asked, indicating the pair sitting on the bed.

"Must've been... what? Two months ago?" M'rassi replied.

"About that. Ustengrav was when we... sort of... let each other know how we felt." Onmund nudged his lover.

M'rassi smiled sleepily. She was thinking about that night not so long ago.

"Two months? Are you going to marry? Don't you humans usually do things a lot faster than this? Life in Skyrim being hard and brief and all that Nord nonsense?" Brelyna teased Onmund, who by now had turned bright pink.

"I... Uh..." Onmund stuttered. He wanted to, but it was never the right time to ask, rushing about from place to place as they did. He did have an Amulet of Mara stashed in the bottom of his pack, and planned to wear it and ask M'rassi when the time was right.

"It was really only after the Embassy that - wait, that Thalmor jekosiit isn't around is he?" M'rassi glanced around suspiciously, having missed Onmund's awkwardness.

"J'zargo does not see why he would be. Ancano's quarters are in the Hall of Countenance, not here. Though J'zargo swears the old mer never sleeps. Always creeping about the College like he does." J'zargo huffed.

"You two caused a stir when you left so soon after arriving. Ancano missed the dragon and everything else after. He was very suspicious when you left. Arch-Mage Aren refused to tell him anything. You're lucky you went too, Onmund," Brelyna said to the sleepy Nord. "Because Ancano pulled us all aside, one by one, threatening us with questioning at the Embassy if we didn't tell him where you went. The whole College has been sticking to the story that Aren sent you two to learn all about the dragons. It's not far from the truth, but Ancano is highly suspicious." Brelyna explained.

"I'm sorry I made things difficult for everyone here."

"Don't be." J'zargo piped up. "It's been our pleasure to bait the jekosiit. Even Aren was doing it. Did you perchance test my flame cloak scrolls?"

Both M'rassi and Onmund visibly blanched.

"Yes. They were... effective." M'rassi told him.

"And explosive." Onmund added.

"How so?"

"We were in this spooky old barrow called Dead Man's Respite, on the edge of Hjaalmarch-"

"We went into this chamber, right-"

"Except this portcullis dropped down behind me."

"With me on the other side."

"Anyway, as soon as the thing shut, draugr came out of nowhere. There must have been a dozen of them." M'rassi frowned, trying to remember. They'd gone there a few days before Ustengrav. "So I pulled out your scrolls and cast the spell. As soon as they came close – boom – and I blacked out."

"You were engulfed in a massive fireball, and trapped as I was, I couldn't do anything to help. When the gate opened again and the smoke cleared, I found you lying on the floor, unconscious. And that ghost... "

"Svaknir, the bard? Yeah, he was pretty pissed." M'rassi grinned.

"Anyway, almost all of your fur was singed, and your clothes were ruined. Onmund directed at M'rassi.

"It took weeks to grow out. Which reminds me… " She quickly stood and gave J'zargo a playful punch on the arm.

"Ow!" He yelped, and swatted M'rassi with his tail.

She pointedly ignored it and sat back down beside the Nord, grinning like an idiot. "That was for almost killing me." She teased.

"They'd be useful in a tight spot, but you might want to tone them down a bit. They're great in theory, but not in practice." Onmund told J'zargo.

"J'zargo will see what he can do… " He replied with a lazy flick of his tail.

"So how go your studies?" M'rassi asked the Dunmer.

"Good. I've been studying Conjuration with Phinis Gestor. I need to practice more, but I'm having trouble finding test subjects, since the accident- " Brelyna looked embarrassed, her grey skin turning a splotchy pink.

"You turned J'zargo into a sheep! And when you tried to fix it, you turned me into a horse!" J'zargo said indignantly.

M'rassi and Onmund cracked up laughing.

"Oh, I would have paid good money to see that!" M'rassi smiled, whiskers splayed in her mirth.

"I said I was sorry." Brelyna scowled at J'zargo. "Anyway, I bet you two have many tales from your travels. Any good ones?"

"You've already had one!"

"That didn't count!" Brelyna laughed.

M'rassi glanced at Onmund, who shrugged tiredly. "Alright, just one though. It's been hard on the road, and it will be good to sleep in a proper bed for a change." She sighed deeply, lazily flicking her tail and lowering her ears.

"Sleep, or _sleep_?" J'zargo asked, smiling his triangular Khajiit grin and flicking his tail high.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" M'rassi shot him a sly look while Onmund's cheeks turned the colour of snowberries. He really did not want to discuss – that – with J'zargo of all people.

"Just one more." Brelyna pleaded, changing the subject.

"Just one. Then no more. We're really very tired." Onmund said firmly.

"Stony Creek Cave?" M'rassi asked.

Onmund gave her a bemused nod.

"We were clearing out this cave full of bandits, when we found their stash of rotgut. Once we killed them all we started to drink." M'rassi started.

"It was pretty potent stuff. Sujamma. They used to brew it in Old Morrowind." Onmund added.

"Anyway, we got pretty drunk and Onmund started to sing Ragnar the Red. We both know the words by now; it seems all the bards in Skyrim are singing it these days."

"Get on with it." Onmund growled, though he was smiling.

"So we were both singing and dancing and we walked out onto this rickety bridge. I guess our jumping up and down on it must've weakened it, because it collapsed, dunking us into the stream." M'rassi shuddered at the memory. It wasn't that she didn't like water, unlike most of her kind she enjoyed swimming, but falling into the cold stream had surprised her.

"As soon as she felt the cold water, M'rassi leapt up and bounded up the creek to a big rock, which she climbed on top of. I swear she practically skipped across the surface of the water! Her fur was sticking out in every direction. Just like that!" Onmund laughed at M'rassi, her fur fluffed out at the memory, making her appear almost twice her normal size. The effect was hilarious.

The other apprentices took one look at her and broke out into a series of guffaws. M'rassi and Onmund joined the chorus, the laughter was infectious, and soon the four of them had tears running down their faces, gasping for breath from laughing so hard.

"You must tell us more!" Brelyna said, J'zargo huffing a quiet chuckle.

"Please, another time. We're pretty tired..." M'rassi waved her off, her whiskers drooping, lowering her ears and half shutting her eyes.

"Alright… " The Dark Elf relented.

M'rassi bustled them out of the room, drawing the curtain back across the door. Yawning loudly, she stripped back out of her clothes and squeezed back into bed beside Onmund, who took up most of it. She snuggled into his arms and they soon went back to sleep.

Onmund led her through the weaving shelves to the librarian's desk.

The Arcaneum was the largest library in Skyrim, even bigger than one in the Blue Palace in Solitude. The towering shelves formed a labyrinth in the tower, and lit by small lanterns mounted on the support columns. There were reading desks here and there, and quite a few were occupied by fellow mages reading tomes on various subjects ranging from the many realms of Oblivion to the nature of Sovngarde and its relation to the Dreamsleeve.

One old Breton was buried in a thick leather-bound book on Dwemer tonal architecture theory. Onmund pointed him out as Arniel Gane. If M'rassi was truly interested in studying the dwarves when she returned, she would be studying under his tutelage. She made a mental note to introduce herself later, she'd only seen him once before, during the fight with the dragon in the courtyard a few months back, and didn't really recognize him.

Onmund had practically lived in the Arcaneum in the few days before he left again with M'rassi. He'd read something of every subject, unsure of what he wanted to study when he finished his apprenticeship and silently cursing the last novice for being so late. What he'd read concerning the liminal barriers and the towers holding up Mundus had been fascinating, but the lore soon was too complicated to understand. Because of this, he got to know the library rather well.

M'rassi kept stopping and starting to examine the spines of many books, making comparisons to the library at the now-defunct Synod Conclave in Riverhold. Most titles were written in Tamrielic, though there were a good many that were not. There were books in the various languages of men and mer, she even found one in her native Ta'agra, which looked to be a treatise on the Lunar Lattice and the myriad forms of Khajiit. Her ears were twitching back and forth, her tail flicking in excitement, she loved this place.

Urag gro-Shub, the librarian, was a very unusual Orc. Unlike most of his green-skinned kin, the Orsimer, who seemed rather brutish, uncouth and otherwise unpleasant, Urag preferred the peace of his library and the well-being of his books. And they _were_ his books. If anyone disturbed the Arcaneum, Urag threatened to tear them apart and no one was fool enough to test the Orc's patience.

He was a gruff looking mer, with dark green skin, glaring yellow eyes and large worn tusks. He was the oldest Orc M'rassi had ever seen, with a heavily lined face and a great big bushy white beard. He was bald as an egg on top, and what little remained of his hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. He was wearing some ordinary brown mage robes, and thick leather boots which he had resting on his desk. He was reclining in a comfortable looking chair, reading an odd book called 'A Less Rude Song' and chuckling lightly. Even relaxed as he was, the old Orc looked intimidating, like he could snap any of the mages at the College in half, including that Thalmor, Ancano.

"Haven't seen you in here for a while, boy." Urag looked up from his book when they approached. "And I haven't seen you in here at all. This is the Arcaneum, of which I am in charge. It might as well be my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcaneum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs. Now do you require any assistance?"

M'rassi hesitated. The question was at odds with his previous statements, and it threw her.

"I'm looking for an Elder Scroll." She said simply.

Urag gro-Shub gave her a look like she'd asked if fire was hot. "And what do you plan to do with it? Do you even know what you're talking about, or are you just someone's errand girl?"

"I know that they're used for prophesy, but not much else. Can you tell me anything else about them?"

"Well, that's more than most come in here with. An Elder Scroll is an instrument of immense knowledge and power. To read an Elder Scroll, a person must have a rigorously trained mind, or risk madness. Even so, the Divines usually take the reader's sight as a price."

"I didn't know that. A price for what?"

"The simplest way to put it is 'knowledge,' but there's nothing simple about an Elder Scroll. It's a reflection of all possible futures and all possible pasts. Each reader sees different reflections through different lenses, and may come away with a very different reading. But at the same time, all of it is true. Even the falsehoods. Especially the falsehoods."

"So did anyone actually write the Scrolls?" Onmund asked.

Urag glared at the Nord like he had all the intelligence of a haystack. "It would take a month to explain how that very question doesn't even make sense. The Scrolls exist here, with us, but also beyond and beneath. Before and after. They are bits of Divine made substance so we could know them." He shook his head. "Sorry. Talking about the Scrolls, you usually end up in irritating and vague metaphors like that. Some people who study them devoutly go mad."

"I'm guessing you don't have one we can use then." M'rassi shrugged.

"Ha!" The Orc barked a fearsome laugh. "You think that even if I did have one here, I'd let you see it? It would be kept under the highest security. Even the greatest thief in the world wouldn't be able to lay a finger on it."

"Not even the Dragonborn?" M'rassi asked sweetly.

"What about...wait. You're the ones Aren sent away, I heard about you, but didn't pay much mind. You're the one the Greybeards were calling?" Urag looked genuinely surprised.

"Yes, that's me. The very same living, breathing, Shouting Dragonborn."

Urag stopped leaning in his chair, his boots hitting the floor with a thud. "I'll bring you everything we have on them, but it's not much."

"Anything is better than nothing." Onmund said.

"Don't get your hopes up. It's mostly lies, leavened with rumour and conjecture." He pushed himself from the chair, with a creak of his knees.

He disappeared into a small back room and soon came back with a pair of books, which he placed almost lovingly on his desk.

"Here you go. Try not to spill anything on them." He dismissed them by opening his book and blatantly ignoring him.

M'rassi scooped the books into her arms and they sat down at a nearby desks. They each read one, then swapped. One was a treatise on the stages of blindness experienced by those who attempted to read the Scrolls. The second, titled 'Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls' made absolutely no sense whatsoever. It jumped from metaphor to metaphor with all the grace of a three-legged dog, and never said anything specific. The author was obviously mad.

M'rassi took the book back to Urag, who hadn't moved an inch.

"This 'Ruminations' book is incomprehensible." She growled, ears back slightly in annoyance.

"Aye." Urag licked his finger and turned his page without looking up. "That's the work of Septimus Signus. He's the worlds master on the nature of the Elder Scrolls, but... well. He's been gone for a long while. Too long." He sounded almost sad.

"He's dead?"

"Oh, no. I hope not. But even I haven't seen him in years, and we were close. Became obsessed with the Dwemer. Took off north saying he'd found some old artefact. Haven't seen him since. He's somewhere in the ice fields last I heard. Someone runs him fresh supplies every couple of months, but... well... my old bones ain't what they used to be. Aren might know more, if you want to try to find him."

"Thank you."

M'rassi left Onmund in the library while she tracked down the Arch-Mage. She found him reading in his quarters and asked him about Septimus. He told her there was going to be a supply run made in a few days time, and that she and Onmund should take it since they were heading that way. In the meantime he suggested they make the most of their short reprieve from their travel. And steer clear of Ancano, the Altmer was increasingly wearing on Aren's nerves trying to find out about M'rassi. The Khajiit whole-heartedly agreed.

It was nice to spend a few days at the College as ordinary apprentices. They practised some advanced combat magic with Faralda, who even learned a few tricks herself from what her students had picked up on the road. Most mages never left the College for long, or went very far, and had little experience beyond the stone walls. They regaled tales of their exploits to their fellow apprentices and dodged Ancano. They spent many hours reading in the library, looking for anything else they might find on the Elder Scrolls, which amounted to almost nothing. They only found an old account of a man trying to catalogue the Elder Scrolls housed in White-Gold Tower and failing miserably, since the number was different every time he counted.

Often M'rassi would forget to eat or sleep altogether, and Onmund would find her slumped over a book, candle long gone out, purring softly in her slumber. He'd wake her gently and steer her back to the Hall of Attainment to a proper bed.

Onmund himself spent time with a strange little Imperial man called Sergius Turrianus, master-enchanter, learning enough of the art to weave enchantments into his journal so that none but he and M'rassi could open it. He did the same for M'rassi's Ta'agra notes, binding them first in a folio. Better safe than sorry if anyone got their hands on them, though they often kept the books with them at all times.

They read as many accounts of expeditions onto the ice as they could get their hands on. If they had to venture north across the ice shelf, then they'd best prepare as much as they could. Aside from Septimus Signus and the supply runs, the most recent expeditions north were some two-hundred and thirty years back, in the last days of the third era. The second-last Septim Emperor, Uriel VII, had funded several journeys north in search of Atmora of Old, where the pale-skinned men had originated back in the Merethic Era. Most never returned, and those that did told of snow and wind and ice, a land so inhospitable that no one could live there anymore.

They helped prepare the sled for the supply run to Septimus, loading it with several weeks-worth of dried and preserved food. They bundled several crates on a narrow sled, covering them with a large oilskin and tying it down with a thick rope. It was small enough for the two of them to drag across the frozen water.

Soon it was time for them to leave. They left their books in the care of Urag gro-Shub, who eyed the battered journal and folio suspiciously before stowing them in a small compartment in his desk. They left their winter cloaks in their rooms; they'd be a liability on the ice. The wind would catch them and either tear them clean away or pull them off course. Instead they requisitioned great thick sheep-skin anoraks from the storerooms, wool turned inward for warmth. Hiking across the ice was tiring business so Onmund had to wear a special cotton under-shirt or his sweat would freeze on the wool, and he would quickly perish. As a Khajiit, M'rassi didn't have that problem since she didn't sweat.

It was only a short trip, a day there, a day back, but the Arch-Mage didn't want them to take any chances, and they happily agreed. They took only what supplies they needed, leaving behind their potions and other assorted travel gear to lighten their load. They were given a pair of ice-boots each, special fur boots with thick leather soles, rawhide webbing and iron spikes to dig into the slippery ice. They were also given a pair of long thin poles called stocks with an iron barb on the end to aid them on their trek.

They set off in the early morning, carefully crossing the narrow bridge with the aid of several servants, and they followed the road down under the bridge and north to the coast. As the road headed downhill, they perched on the back of the sled, steering it with their stocks and they made good time careening down the snowy slope.

It was much harder dragging the sled across the rocky beach. Snow had fallen to sea level, but the swift current and salty water lapping at the shore prevented it from settling. The same flows of water and wind brought pack-ice close to shore, where it crushed against chunks of fast-ice forming dangerous rivers of frazil-ice. M'rassi couldn't believe the Nords had so many words for ice.

Their destination was an iceberg that had calved off the Hsaarik glacier, west of Winterhold, some four years back. It had lodged on some offshore rocks about three miles out to sea, fast-ice rapidly forming around the edges. A bridge of pack-ice formed between the iceberg and the shore every winter, but travel was only possible during the coldest months and even then it was risky.

The only reason Septimus Signus had bothered with the stuck iceberg was the eye-witness account of a horker hunter seeing something embedded in the ice when it calved. Coupled with the fact that the Hsaarik glacier was known to contain the ruins of several Dwemer cities, it was a good candidate for exploration.

After an hour of struggling with the sled across the stony shore and pushing it onto the fast-ice they stopped for a quick meal. They used their fire magic to gently heat bottles of a beef broth given to them by the kitchens. They hoped to make the excavation site by nightfall since it was dangerous to camp on the ever-shifting ice. They'd sighted the iceberg as the came down the hill, but now it was shrouded in mist, the weather rapidly becoming foul again.

"Shit!" M'rassi swore when her boot punched through a thin section of pack-ice, and her foot plunged into the inky water.

Onmund bumped into her when she stopped suddenly and the sled smacked into his knees painfully, and he swore loudly. They pushed the sled away from the thin area and looked around. The snow was really coming down now, coating the sled in a layer as thick as M'rassi's tail. They could not see more than a few meters in front of them.

"We need to find another way around." Onmund said.

"This is useless, we'll get lost." M'rassi frowned, hands jammed into her armpits despite her mittens. Her tail was stuffed down one pant leg.

"What about that Shout from High Hrothgar?"

"Wouldn't the ice melt?"

"It shouldn't do. Usually it takes weeks for it to make a difference. We can't be far away, we've been hiking for hours. Tell you what, we swap places, and I'll use my frost spells to keep the path solid."

"Alright then." M'rassi replied, teeth chattering.

They awkwardly untied themselves from the sled, fumbling with the rope because of the mittens they were both wearing. They switched places, Onmund taking the lead. M'rassi looked up at the almost black sky, wondering just how far away the icy fortress was.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Ready." Onmund replied, readying his magic.

"Lok-Vah-Koor!" M'rassi Shouted.

Her Thu'um exploded outwards, pushing back the whirling snow and clouds. Pale orange sunlight shone through, lighting up the frozen field. It did not stop the biting wind but at least they could see. In the chilly light of dusk, Onmund sighted the iceberg, half a mile away to the northeast.

"This way!" He called back, wind tearing the words away.

M'rassi followed when she felt the rope tug, and Onmund pushed on, stocks strapped to his back. He weaved his magicka into the ice, hardening it with a low level frost spell. He could keep it up for hours if they didn't run into any problems. If they needed to, they could always swap back.

The iceberg grew larger as they trekked across the pack-ice. The ice was rumbling as they approached the edge where the pack-ice and the fast-ice were grinding past each other. They stopped and examined the slushy frazil-ice marking the boundary. There was no other way around. This presented a problem. Onmund was tired and his magicka was low from the journey. M'rassi could easily solidify that with her own magic, but they needed Onmund's strength up front should something go wrong.

"Any ideas?" Onmund asked, putting his arm around M'rassi's shoulder, rope slack between them.

"I could try Shouting at it?" M'rassi replied through chattering teeth.

"Would that work?"

"Maybe, but not for long. The other side looks solid enough. We could make a break for it."

"Alright, how're we going to do this?"

"When I tap your shoulder, run." M'rassi told him.

Onmund nodded and crouched down before her, bracing his legs and readying his stocks for a quick start. M'rassi watched the slow passage of the frazil-ice, waiting as a particularly thick looking clump drew closer.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" She Shouted, as the lump slid into place.

From between her fangs she blew a torrent over the top of Onmund's hooded head and onto the slushy heap. The mound solidified, but more of the mushy frazil-ice began to build up behind the blockage. M'rassi tapped Onmund on the shoulder and they leapt forward, dragging the reluctant weight of the sled behind them.

They scurried across the bridge as it gave a creaking groan.

"Shit!" Onmund heard M'rassi swear and the rope went taut.

M'rassi fell forward onto her hands and knees, dropping her stocks, the sled pulling hard on her waist. She saw the Nord in front of her stumble and dig his spiked boots and stocks into the ice. Her tail whipped out of her pants and whirled in the chilly air, helping her balance as the sled tried to pull her sideways.

"What the fuck?" Onmund growled, and they twisted their heads back to look.

The sled had slipped off the frozen mound as it broke under the onslaught of slushy ice. The front end was hovering over the fast-ice, and the back end was half submerged in the frazil-ice which was slowly pulling the wooden frame with it.

"Oh, gods." M'rassi grunted as it tugged harder. She could feel her boots slipping.

"Pull!" Onmund bellowed, and mustering all his farm-boy strength he began to haul on the ropes, digging in his stocks to find purchase.

M'rassi pulled off her mittens with her teeth, gouging her claws into the ice, and adding her strength to his, she crawled forward. The sled came loose with a wet pop, and it slid across the fast-ice slamming into the khajiit and running over her tail.

"Ow!" M'rassi yowled, dropping the mittens which were now punctured by her sharp canines.

"By the Nine, that was close!" Onmund collapsed onto the ice and began to laugh.

Chuckling herself, M'rassi rammed her cold fingers back into the gloves and examined her smarting tail. It was only bruised beneath the thick fur and would heal in time. She sat up and checked the ropes securing the oilskin covered crates and their own satchels lashed on top. Everything seemed dry, despite the dip.

"Hey M'rassi?" Onmund was still lying on his back.

"Yes?" She twisted her head toward him.

"We made it." He pointed up.

M'rassi followed his finger and the iceberg loomed over them, gleaming orange through the hole in the clouds.

"That we did." She smiled.

Onmund sat up and offered his clenched fist to her. She bumped it with her own, an informal khajiiti gesture of victory. She'd taught him early on in their journey, after Shouting the boulder off High Hrothgar. It had amused him greatly, and they'd repeated it many times on their travels, becoming habit.

"Hey, I think that's it!" M'rassi pointed to a passage roughly chopped into the ice and covered with a rickety door.

"Looks lovely." Onmund stood up, stretching his back and checking the ropes on his belt were secure.

"Sure, a few flowers planted outside, it might be positively charming!"

"Can we have red ones? I love the little red ones."

"As long as I can have Elenwen's head on a pike, you can have whatever colour flowers you want!" M'rassi nudged his shoulder.

They dissolved into laughter and started to move off.

"Can you imagine living in this gods-forsaken place?" Onmund asked, still chuckling.

"Gods, no. If I wasn't already convinced of his madness by his book, then this would surely prove it." M'rassi shook her hooded head.

They pushed the sled into the cavern with some difficulty, the door kept trying to shut on them. They carefully guided it down the rough-hewn passage, melt water dripping on them. It was chilly inside but not uncomfortably so, and they were soon overheating in their anoraks.

They soon emerged into a small chamber carved out of the ice, surprising an elderly Imperial man in thick blue woollen robes.

"Aiii!" He squeaked as M'rassi and Onmund pushed the laden sled down a snowy ramp to the chamber below.

The room was the same as the passage, roughly chopped out of the ice, except for a large area surrounding an ancient Dwemer artefact. The bronze coloured metal never tarnished, and it looked as new now as it did when the dwarves disappeared, thousands of years ago. It appeared to be some sort of lock box, with a complex mechanism of concentric rings and green crystal plates. It was the sort of thing M'rassi would like to study once all this business with Alduin was finished.

"Are you Septimus Signus?" Onmund asked.

"When the top level was built, no more could be placed. It was and is the maximal apex." The man babbled.

"Yep, it's him." M'rassi unloaded the last crate from the sled.

"The ice entombs the heart. The bane of Kagrenac and Dagoth Ur. To harness it is to know. The fundaments. The Dwemer lockbox hides it from me." Septimus carried on as if they weren't even there. "The Elder Scroll gives deeper insight than the deep ones, though. To bring about the opening."

"What was that about an Elder Scroll? You have one? Here?" M'rassi asked the madman.

"I've seen enough to know their fabric. The warp of air, the weft of time. But no, it is not in my possession." He said, finally acknowledging he was being spoken to.

M'rassi shook her head in annoyance.

"Are you... all right?" Onmund asked the older man.

"Oh, I am well. I will be well. Well to be within the will inside the walls."

Divines, this was getting them nowhere.

"Do you know where the Scroll is?" M'rassi asked, tail flicking in agitation. Catching herself, she curled the tip around Onmund's knee to still it.

"Here." Septimus hissed slowly. "Well, here as in this plane. Mundus. Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking. On the cosmological scale, it's all nearby."

"Can you help us get the Elder Scroll or not?" Even Onmund was getting impatient.

"One block lifts another. Septimus will give you what you want, but you must bring him something in return." The Imperial smiled beatifically.

"And what might that be?"

"You see this masterwork of the Dwemer. Deep inside their greatest knowings. Septimus is clever among men, but he is an idiot child compared to the dullest of the Dwemer. Lucky then that they left behind their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls. In the depths of Blackreach one yet lies."

"But Blackreach is only a myth!" Onmund frowned.

"Have you heard of Blackreach?" Septimus ignored Onmund, directing the question at M'rassi. "'Cast upon where Dwemer cities slept, the yearning spire hidden learnings kept.'" He laughed maniacally.

"Where is this Blackreach?" M'rassi asked sceptically.

"Under deep. Below the dark. The hidden keep. Tower Mzark. Alftand. The point of puncture, of first entry, of the tapping. Delve to it's limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond."

"Alftand? It's buried in the Hsaarik glacier. Just past Saarthal, where the College has an excavation." Onmund told M'rassi.

"Not all can enter there. Only Septimus knows the hidden key to loose the lock to jump below the deathly rock."

"So how do we get in?" M'rassi's asked, happier now they finally had something to go on.

"Two things I have for you. Two shapes. One edged, one round." Septimus rummaged around in a small cupboard and pulled out a cube and a sphere.

"The round one, for tuning. Dwemer music is soft and subtle, needed to open their cleverest gates." He handed the sphere to M'rassi. "The edged lexicon, for inscribing. To us, a hunk of metal. To the Dwemer, a full library of knowings. But... empty." He handed the cube to Onmund.

They studied the objects for a minute. They were both intricately carved and made of the same brass-like metal as the lockbox. They couldn't find any means of activating the devices.

"Find Mzark and its sky-dome. The machinations there will read the scroll and lay the lore upon the cube. Trust Septimus. He knows that you can know."

"So what exactly do I do... with... this?" M'rassi asked, passing the odd sphere from one hand to another.

"The deepest doors of Dwemer listen for singing. It plays the attitude of notes proper for opening. Can you not hear it? Too low for hearings?"

It probably was. M'rassi could often hear higher pitched noises better than Onmund, and he could hear lower sound than she could. She held it up to her ear, but couldn't hear anything. Her sensitive whiskers felt a faint vibration from the sphere, too subtle for her fingers. It was definitely emitting... something.

"And what about this?" Onmund was turning the cube over and over.

"To glimpse the world inside an Elder Scroll can damage the eyes. Or the mind, as it has to Septimus." The Imperial shot them a lopsided smile. "The Dwemer found a loophole, as they always do. To focus the knowledge away and inside without harm. Place the lexicon into their contraption and focus the knowings into it. When it brims with glow, bring it back and Septimus can read once more."

"So what do you want with the cube once we've transcribed the Elder Scroll into it?" M'rassi asked.

"Oooh, an observant one. How clever to ask of Septimus." Septimus waved his hand at the artefact embedded in the ice. "This Dwemer lockbox. Look upon it and wonder. Inside is the heart. The heart of a god! The heart of you. And me. But it was hidden away. Not by the Dwarves, you see. They were already gone. Someone else. Unseen. Unknown. Found the heart, and with a flair for the ironical, used Dwarven trickery to lock it away. The Scroll will give the deep vision needed to open it. For not even the strongest machinations of the Dwemer can hold off the all-sight given by an Elder Scroll."

Septimus seemed to be talking about the Heart of Lorkhan, which disappeared from Red Mountain when the Nerevarine destroyed the enchantments on it in the last few years of the third era. That was one of the events described in her own prophesy, heralding the return of Alduin the World-Eater. M'rassi very much doubted that the Heart was actually inside the box, and that Septimus was under the influence of a Daedric Prince. Sheggorath, probably.

"So what do you think an Elder Scroll actually is?" Onmund asked. Might as well get the answers to the questions raised by the insane book straight from the horse's mouth.

"You look to your left, you see one way. You look to your right, you see another. But neither is any harder than the opposite. But the Elder Scrolls... they look left and right in the stream of time. The future and past are as one. Sometimes they even look up. What do they see then? What if they dive in? Then the madness begins."

"Clearly." M'rassi shook her head, it hurt trying to even think of the concepts. Alkosh, what had Paarthurnax got them into?


	14. Elder Knowledge I

**Chapter Fourteen: Elder Knowledge I.**

Following Septimus' instructions they followed the rough trail from Winterhold southwest into the mountains. As they passed through the town they stopped at the College to return the sled, the trip much faster without the extra weight. They restocked their food supply and picked up their potions and cloaks. M'rassi swapped her patched knapsack for Malborn's old satchel and packed a weeks-worth of food for the two of them into it. Onmund took their potions and a new,blank journal, the last one was completely filled after speaking with Paarthurnax.

They climbed up to the Hsaarik glacier, passing by the College excavation at Saarthal. They ascended up to the top of the glacier along a large crevasse, finding themselves battered by the wind in a horrifying blizzard. The storm had rolled in while they were venturing across the ice and had sat like a brooding bird over the mountain range since.

"Lok-Vah-Koor!" M'rassi Shouted, pushing back the dark clouds long enough to spot a small shack that had been hastily constructed beside the distinctive peaked spire of a Dwemer tower.

The storm clouds were rolling back in when they reached the ramshackle hut. M'rassi was disappointed that most of the wood cladding had been torn off by the howling wind. From the shack they could see a few more spires poking hesitantly out of the ice. There were several collapsed tents, half covered in snow, protecting a pair of poor fools who'd perished from the cold.

"Looks like someone was running an expedition here. Not the College." Onmund said.

"Hmm?" M'rassi turned away from the whirling snow and saw Onmund on a rickety table flipping through a rough folio of notes.

"The expedition manifest. There're seven of them apparently."

"Including the snowmen outside?"

"I don't think so. Says here they all planned to go inside when the storm hit. I don't know who those poor souls were. It says the tower is locked but they found a fissure in the glacier that goes into the ruins. Maybe we should try to find them?"

"What are we waiting for, then?" M'rassi said, pulling her cloak tighter and shivering.

"Still not really used to the cold yet, are you?" Onmund smiled, shoving the manifest into his satchel.

"No, I'm fine, really." M'rassi tried to deny it, but her chattering teeth, the hood covering her ears and her hands jammed into her armpits were a dead giveaway. "Alright, I'm freezing my tail off." She admitted.

"There should be a way down to the fissure nearby."

"Good."

They found a fragile looking catwalk leading down the face of the ice. The wood was snow-covered and slippery, and the wind was strong. It was a relief when the narrow walkway disappeared into a crevasse. The gap turned into an ice-cave, strewn with crates, barrows and various digging tools. This was the team's refuge, so where were they?

It wasn't long before they found blood. It was a small puddle, frozen on the ice, near a scattered fire pit. M'rassi readied her magic, just in case, a sizzling sound telling her Onmund was doing the same.

"I don't think I like the look of this... " Onmund stated.

"Me either." M'rassi agreed.

They found a journal by the expedition leader, apparently an ex-Legion soldier named Sulla. It revealed the men had been trapped by the storm, and Sulla had ordered them to carry on with the excavation. Maybe there was some hope of finding the team alive yet.

They followed the blood train further into the ice-tunnel, the frozen pools growing more and more frequent. As they were passing a rough wall made from and assortment of oddly shaped wood pieces they heard a voice.

"Where is it? I know you were trying to keep it for yourself J'zhar... You always try to keep it for yourself!"

They froze. This must be one of the khajiiti labourers that had hired on to the expedition. From the sounds of it, the speaker was nearby.

"No! There's got to be more skooma... " Bottles rattled, echoing through the cave. "Shut up! Shut up! Don't lie to me J'zhar! You hid it! You always try to steal it from me!"

M'rassi frowned, ears laid back. Skooma addicts.

They carefully moved on, creeping through the tunnels to avoid alerting the skooma-withdrawal crazed khajiit. Skooma withdrawal made most people either apathetic or violent. In Elsweyr many of the city khajiit became addicted to the skooma, refined from moon sugar and M'rassi had seen more than her fair share of addicts growing up in Orcrest. She had never touched the stuff.

Soon the ice tunnel gave away to the Dwemer ruins proper. The walls were made of stone, with pipes made of the Dwarven metal ran the length, large enough to crawl inside. Snow and ice had worked its way into the ruins but melted away from the warm pipes. The Dwarves had used steam and natural gases to power their strange machines. M'rassi was very excited to finally set foot in the ruins, she'd been fascinated by the Dwemer her whole life.

They came to a big room with a large table. Scattered on top of it were a great many books, soul gems and strange looking tools. There were a pair of Dwemer automatons, half dismantled to reveal their inner workings. They resembled spiders, and seemed to be powered by a small boiler hooked up to a space where a soul gem might fit. An ink well had spilled, soaking the cover of a book that lay nearby. Next to the table was a bedroll that looked like the owner had left it with great haste.

M'rassi used a scrap of linen to clean the ink off the book, and was amazed to discover that the vellum pages inside had not been stained. Flipping through the book she discovered they were the research notes of a mage named Valie, evidently unaffiliated with the College. She'd been pulling apart the spider-machines after they attacked the khajiit brothers. She had got excited when she saw a shadow moving behind the barred door.

M'rassi got a bad feeling when she read that last bit, looking over at the passage which was sealed off with a series of barred horizontal bars. There were several gears clanking away on the other side, and a lever in the middle of the floor. Testing the air with her nose, she smelled the metallic tang of blood, although it was faint. It was hard to see the blood trail on the cold stone, there were only a few flecks, and those were frozen.

Keeping an ear trained on the barred passage, she turned her attention back to the Dwemer-spiders, pointing pulling one over to examine.

"See the joints here, imagine the skill needed to smith such small pieces and make them hinge together so smoothly." She pointed with her claws.

"You've seen one of these before?" He bent down to examine it.

"Magister Irorian had one back in Riverhold. He called it a Centurion Spider. It was in terrible condition compared to these and he kept it locked up. He never let the novices look at it, so one day I broke into his chambers so I could see it. I learned more about the Dwemer machines in five minutes than seven years of reading. I was caught and disciplined, but it was worth it." M'rassi smiled fondly, remembering the astonished look on the old mer's face at her audacity.

Onmund listened eagerly. After the confrontation with Ancano all those months ago, she'd never really spoken of Riverhold and her past with the Synod. She could and did speak of Elsweyr for hours on end, and they often made comparisons between their cultures, but M'rassi always shied from her own past. He did not press her, she would tell him when she was ready; of that, he was certain.

So he listened, watched and sketched as she showed him how the joints in the legs moved, her enthusiasm spilling over into him as well. It wasn't until they heard a loud clang behind them, that they pulled themselves from the machines, just as a pipe emitted a small ball of metal. The ball shot out legs, revealing itself as a very-much alive Dwemer-spider.

"Fantastic! Look at the way its legs move, like a real spider!" M'rassi seemed oblivious to the menacing way it was advancing.

"It doesn't look very friendly." Onmund warned her, readying his magic.

The metal spider launched itself at the khajiit, slamming into her and pinning her to the ground. It started to batter her with its claws, while she tried to wrestle it off her. Onmund shot it with a spear of ice, but it hardly seemed to do anything. He mentally slapped himself, maybe lightning would have a better effect?

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" M'rassi Shouted.

Her Thu'um flung the spider off, sending it crashing into the ceiling where it smashed, raining down all sorts of complicated components. M'rassi laid there panting, weaving a healing spell for her bruises.

"Are you alright?" Onmund helped her to her feet.

"I'll be fine. I should have heard that coming, sorry. Anyway we'll probably see more of these as we get deeper. The mage's notes said something about an 'Animonculory' where the Dwemer constructed their machines. For now, we should only make quick sketches." M'rassi said, though truth be told, the sudden attack had shaken her, and her skin was crawling beneath her fur.

"Okay. What's the matter?" He noticed her distracted look.

Her ears were back and the very tip of her tail twitched in agitation. She looked worried.

"It's just... I've got a feeling... a bad one... " She twitched her ears briefly.

"How bad?"

"Like at the Embassy, before everything went to Oblivion and back."

"You think something might happen?"

"I don't know... just promise me this: Whatever happens, finding the Elder Scroll is our top priority."

He took her hands gently. "I promise. We can still look at the machines as we go, but we'll be more careful."

"Thank you." She kissed him sweetly.

Onmund stuffed the ink-stained notes back into his satchel along with his journal; M'rassi pilfered any food the excavation team left, which wasn't much.

They carried on through the ruins, soon finding themselves on the other side of the rough wall they'd passed earlier. Here they found another journal, this time by the leader's bodyguard. It had been penned a week after the disappearance of the mage, reporting another man missing. The bodyguard fingered the khajiit brothers, but other others were not so sure. It also seemed the leader of this ragtag party was growing increasingly paranoid, claiming the missing people had found a way around and were trying to steal his discoveries. It was a mess.

They carried along the icy passage for another hour, delving deeper into the glacier. They passed a makeshift campsite, bedrolls and fire pit scattered. Tools were strewn every where. They could hear someone moving around a bend.

"Where is it? I know it is here!" It was the skooma-crazed khajiit.

They readied their magic, just in case. There was no telling what he was capable of. They rounded the corner and found him picking at the clothes of another khajiit, obviously deceased. Onmund slipped and accidentally kicked an empty bottle, the tinkling overly loud in the silent cave. The khajiit whirled around, ears laid back, tail waving in aggression. He bared his teeth.

"What? Who is this, Brother? Another of the smooth skins looking for food? But these were not trapped with us... " He snarled. "No...No! You must be the ones who took my skooma!"

He flew at them, swinging an ordinary woodcutters axe at them.

"Tiid-Klo!" M'rassi Shouted, slowing time itself.

She ducked below the axe as it sailed toward her, fling a lightning bolt as she went. The cat-man winced as the axe hit the ice with a clang. Onmund loosed a torrent of flame from his fingers at the cat, M'rassi moving back to avoid the fire. The khajiit gave a strangle yowl as the attack burned off his fur, lunging at M'rassi. Time returned to normal and he hit her knocking her back.

She brought up her knees and pushed out with her legs throwing him off her. As the khajiit sailed back, Onmund shot an ice spear at him, impaling him and pinning him to the stone column behind him. The khajiit squirmed and coughed up blood before succumbing with a deep gurgling sigh. The ice had punctured a lung.

"Nice kick!" Onmund pulled M'rassi from the ice.

"Thanks." M'rassi stretched her back. "Sometimes it seems I spend more time on my back than on my feet during a fight."

Onmund snorted a laugh.

"These must be the brothers from the logbooks."

"Looks like." Onmund tossed her a small journal. "Poor bastard has been dead for days."

M'rassi caught it and started reading. The elder brother, J'zhar had signed the pair of them onto this expedition in order to clean up his younger brother J'darr. Once they were trapped, the small amount of skooma had quickly run out, and J'darr turned nasty and started raving about seeing creatures prowling in the ruin. J'zhar had attributed these to skooma withdrawal hallucinations. Neither of them were responsible for the disappearances though.

M'rassi gave the book back to Onmund for him to read and she snapped the icy spear holding the charred khajiit. He dropped to the floor and she pulled him over and laid him next to his brother.

"Khenarthi guide you, clan-mates." She whispered.

They carried on and soon the glacier vanished entirely and the tunnels warmed slightly. It was slow going, M'rassi kept stopping to examine the pipes and gears that clanked away in the gloom, not even her bad feeling could not overcome her insatiable curiosity. Steam hissed from breaks in the pipes, and everywhere there were pistons, gears, levers and all manner of odd machines made of the same bronze-like metal the dwarves favoured. She hadn't expected the Dwemer ruins to be so... so... noisy.

"Got to give the Dwemer credit, after almost four thousand years, their machines are still running. Amazing..." Onmund said as they walked into a large chamber with a large empty area flanked by a pair of pipes with suspicious looking apertures.

"Wait!" M'rassi grabbed his arm, and pointed out the slick sheen of oil coating the ground. "Looks like a trap."

Sure enough, as they crept forward the pipes emitted a loud clanking and spat out a pair of metal orbs, significantly larger than the centurion-spiders. With a hiss and a screech of metal on metal the mechanisms unfolded themselves into vaguely man-shaped contraptions. They carefully balanced on their sphere bases, using them for locomotion.

"Wow!" M'rassi said excitedly.

The centurion spheres pivoted on their bases at the sound of her voice, and extended swords from what looked like arms.

"Not good." Onmund said readying his magic.

M'rassi flung a lightning bolt at one, but it barely even slowed. She turned tail and ran. The mechanical warriors followed her and as they rolled into the oil, Onmund hit them with a fireball. The oil went up with a roar, and M'rassi whirled around and Shouted.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!"

Onmund backed away from the searing heat of M'rassi's Thu'um. The khajiit was slinging her own fireballs into the conflagration, and soon the centurion spheres were little more than molten slag.

"Careful with your Shouts, M'rassi! I'd rather not be roasted today!" Onmund teased.

"Sorry about that." She looked chagrined.

Onmund laughed at her expression so she cheekily swatted him across the backside with her tail as she stalked off down the corridor. Still chuckling he followed.

They set camp in a small alcove around the corner, they hadn't slept since leaving Winterhold and they were bone tired. They each laid out several Lightning Runes, as well as a few other protective wards. If the Dwemer machines came upon them during the night, they would at least be warned.

"This is the Animonculory." Onmund said, looking from the book to the massive doors inscribed with Dwemeris.

"You can read that?"

"No, but this book has the letters and provides a rough translation. One of the mages from the old Mages Guild in Third Era Morrowind wrote it after finding a tome in both Dwemeris and Aldmeris. Edwina Elbert, that was her name. She used it to translate ancient Dwemeris into modern Tamrielic. Its not perfect, but it suits our purposes for now." Onmund snapped the book shut. "So, trouble or treasure?"

"Treasure!" M'rassi grinned.

"Treasure it is!" Onmund leaned on the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"I think it opens the other way." M'rassi smiled, giving the other door a tug.

Together they pulled the door open and were immediately jumped by a centurion-spider. Several bursts of electricity later and the thing blew apart, showering them in metal components.

"These are almost as good as skeletons!" M'rassi laughed.

"I love the sound of metal gears scattering in the morning!"

"Except it's the afternoon."

"Is it? I can't really tell down here." Onmund chuckled until he saw M'rassi smelling the air intently, whiskers twitching. "What is it?"

"Blood... and something else... I've smelled it before, but I can't remember... "

"You reckon another one of the expedition people is nearby?"

"Aye, but dead a few days, judging from the stink... we should check."

"Let's get going, then." Onmund agreed.

M'rassi led the way, following her nose to a small space below a grate in the floor. She slung off her pack.

"Down here." She pulled at the grate but it only moved a small bit, leaving a gap only large enough for her to climb down.

"I don't think I'll fit down here." Onmund smiled.

"I'll go. Just... stay alert." M'rassi slipped into the narrow opening and dropped to the floor.

The stench was very strong down here and her khajiiti eyes made out shapes in the dark. There was a man laying against a pipe, an arrow in his shoulder. The body was black, the voided contents of his bowel and other bodily fluids pooled in a festering mess below him.

"Oh, gods." M'rassi gasped and immediately regretted it, getting a lungful of the fetid air.

"Are you all right?" Onmund called down.

M'rassi spied a book and quickly snatching it up, she tossed it up to the waiting Nord.

"Help me up!" M'rassi barked when she saw him start to flip through it.

Onmund dropped the book and helped his lover out of the pit. She felt weak in his arms.

"I'm gonna be sick!" She pushed herself away from him and staggered into a corner where she brought up her lunch. She felt Onmund start rubbing her back, and when she was done, he picked her up and took her around a corner, out of sight of the grate and mess.

"By the Nine Divines! That was awful... If I never smell anything like that again, I will die a happy woman." M'rassi muttered.

"We still have four members of the expedition to account for." Onmund sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Let's hope they're still breathing, but I doubt it. What does the book say?" M'rassi asked, draping her arm and tail limply on his lap.

Onmund fished the book from his robes and began to read. "The man's name was Endrast. He was taken captive by some eyeless creatures... "

"Falmer?"

"I believe so. Anyway, those khajiit boys were not with them, and the mage taken earlier was nowhere to be seen. Endrast managed to pick the lock of the cell and they made a break for it. He and the Orc, Yag gra-Gortwog, made a break for the surface, while the expedition leader and his bodyguard headed deeper into the ruins. Apparently they were looking for something called the Cathedral."

"So how did our liquefied friend get here?"

"The Falmer chased them up the Animonculory shaft, and they came to a high ledge. The Orc picked up the Bosmer and tossed him up to safety, but couldn't follow. The Wood Elf ran, he didn't even look back." Onmund snapped the book shut.

"Guess I know what that other smell is now. Falmer. Gods, I hate those things." M'rassi growled.

The Falmer were a race of mer long thought extinct. Thousands of years ago, the Falmer were driven from Skyrim by the ancient Nords. The Snow Elves faced a devastating defeat at the Battle of the Moesring during the early First Era and retreated, never to be seen again. It was only in the last twenty years that the Falmer reappeared, though they were shadows of their former selves. They were savage, twisted beasts that dragged their victims into the deep passages below Skyrim, to do gods-knew-what.

According to some ancient Dwemeri and Falmeri texts, the Dwarves gave the Falmer refuge after their defeat. The Dwemer betrayed the survivors and enslaved them. They force-fed the Snow Elves a mushroom native to the darkest passages, which rendered them blind. The blinding-mushrooms became a staple part of the slave's diet, and within a few generations, all the Falmer were completely and irreversibly blind. Their other senses more than made up for it. They rose up against their former masters and fled deeper underground. When the Dwarves disappeared in the middle of the war, the Falmer finally had free reign of the deep spaces.

No one on the surface had any idea of the slavery of the Falmer, and considered them extinct. Dwemer cities were always dangerous places, and few ventured very deep, so the Falmer went largely undetected for thousands of years. There were always tales of dark creatures stealing away children in the night, but no one connected them with the Falmer until one was slain and brought to the College of Winterhold, and the truth was revealed.

They'd run into the twisted creatures a couple of times on their adventures and neither encounter left them unscathed. And now it seemed M'rassi and Onmund were about to walk right into one of their camps. What had Paarthurnax got them into?

Onmund took the lead as they wound their way through twisting passages and they emerged into a tall shaft. There were ramps leading up and down, and corridors leading off into factories, smelters and smithies. This was the Animonculory proper.

"By the Nine!"

"By the Twin Moons!" M'rassi exclaimed.

A growl sounded in the dark, and M'rassi whirled around and slung a lightning bolt at an imp-like creature that had been sneaking up on them. The force of the bolt send the creature sailing off the ledge to plummet to it's death.

"By Shor, I didn't even hear that coming!" Onmund looked startled.

"There will be more. Be on your guard." M'rassi kept her magic ready, sinking to a crouch.

"Right." Onmund did the same.

"Use the edge to our advantage." She hissed, and Onmund grunted a yes.

They prowled down the ramp, and surprised a Falmer skulking in a passage. Once he was down, M'rassi studied him closer.

The Falmer was mostly naked, wearing a loincloth woven from some unknown vegetable. He had a crude club made of chaurus chitin, simple but effective, the weapon could easily gut either mage if they weren't careful.

"Shit!" Onmund swore as an arrow skipped off the stone by his feet. He looked around and tossed a fireball at one of the mutated mer on an opposite landing. The elf dropped his bow and collapsed. Evidently the Snow Elves were still weak to fire after all this time.

"Run!" M'rassi yowled.

They tore down the ramps, slinging fireball after fireball at the marauding elves. A couple of the mer were locked in battle with the Dwemer machines, still adhering to the tasks set thousands of years ago during the slave uprising.

Huffing and puffing, M'rassi spotted something ahead. She dug in her heels and skidded to a stop. "Look out!" She shouted, but not soon enough. "Fuck!" She shouted when Onmund slammed into her, almost sending her over the precipice. Her arms and tail whirled, but the Nord grabbed a fistful of her robes and hauled her away from the edge.

"Watch where you're bloody going!" She hissed.

"You're the one who stopped in front of me!" He growled back.

M'rassi's shoulders slumped. "You're right. I'm sorry for yelling." She really wasn't angry at him, but her bad feeling had her on edge.

"Apology accept- get down!" Onmund pushed her shoulder down and he shot a ball of flame at a Falmer coming down the ramp behind them.

"Thanks!" M'rassi breathed, slowly straightening herself.

Onmund simply smiled and gave her a quick peck on her furry cheek.

"This must be that ledge Endrast wrote about." He said, peering down. "See that dark shadow?"

"I think that might be the Orc woman, or what's left of her. She must have been very strong to throw the Bosmer up here. It must be... ten meters?" M'rassi gave a low whistle.

"I knew Orcs were strong, but that is beyond what I imagined." Onmund replied, fishing the rope out of his pack. He secured it to a large block of stone and tossed it over the edge. The end of the rope pooled on a pile of rock and twisted metal that used to be a ramp leading down.

"After you, Dragonborn." Onmund smirked and M'rassi swatted him with her tail.

She climbed down the rope and picked her way across the rubble to the remains of the Orcish woman, Yag gra-Gortwog. The dark shadow Onmund had pointed out turned out to be a pool of blood, dried up and dark brown. Of the Orsimer herself, here was only a hand, hacked off above the wrist, the end torn and ragged. The rest of her was nowhere to be found.

"Well, that's another one dead. What the hell were they down here for? Surely they're not after the Elder Scroll in Blackreach?" M'rassi asked when she heard the Nord's boots thump on the ground behind her.

"I think they were just after anything of value." He crouched down to examine the hand.

"This expedition leader, Sulla, really needs his head checked. I would've gotten the Oblivion out after the first one was taken."

"Same here. Bloody fool." Onmund growled.

"Come on, we should keep going." M'rassi stood, surveying the shaft for a way down.

"I'm right behind you."

They weaved down the ramps, killing any Falmer foolish enough to get in their way. Occasionally they had to stop and heal up, the twisted mer getting in a few blows by sneaking up on them. Before long there was no direct way down the shaft and they began to weave through the various foundries and factories. In these places they found more Falmer locked in combat with the Dwarven automatons. Taking advantage of the mayhem, the mages first disposed of the Falmer, then the machines, leaving themselves mostly unharmed, if tired.

As they neared what M'rassi though was the bottom of the shaft, they found themselves in a Dwemer smithy. They found more of the twisted Falmer, who'd set up a makeshift camp, and even a chaurus, one of the giant earwig-like insects rumoured to live with the Falmer. They all soon succumbed to the mage's spells and M'rassi led Onmund through the huts. They found the bottom end of the elevator shaft that led back up to the upper reaches of Alftand, where the mage was taken.

"Hey, wait!" Onmund gave her tail a gentle tug.

"Yes?" M'rassi answered tiredly. They'd best set camp soon.

"Over there, on that table."

There they discovered the grisly remains of... someone. There was little left of the body but the skeleton, the skin and muscle had been expertly carved off with some worn Dwemer tools. Some sort of crawling larvae were squirming on the bones, like maggots, but larger, and jet black. What little was left smelled merish to M'rassi, and she felt bile rise in her throat. It was the missing mage, Valie; her clothes lying in a bloody heap next to the table.

"Oh gods." Onmund muttered and was violently sick on the floor. Despite the number of people he'd been forced to kill on his travels, he'd never come across anything like this. A fellow mage, carved up and cooked like a pig.

M'rassi rubbed his back as he voided the contents of his stomach, fighting hard to avoid doing the same, especially after finding the putrefied remains of Endrast. It was grotesque. How far the Falmer had fallen. They were nothing like described in 'The Fall of the Snow Prince.'

"I'm sorry. Its just... " Onmund said, wiping bile from his mouth, voice shaky.

"Let's just carry on. Get away from... this." M'rassi curled her tail around his waist to comfort him.

"Lead on." He agreed weakly.

She led the Nord through the twisting passage until they came to the bottom of the Animonculory. They killed four of the twisted Falmer at the bottom of the shaft and sat to collect their thoughts, no longer able to smell the gods awful stink of mer-flesh.

Ahead was the Cathedral, according to Endrast's diary. It seemed odd that the logical Dwemer would have such a place, they were known for their apparent disregard for anything Divine. That said, there was the whole business with their mysterious disappearance during the early first era, some three-thousand-seven-hundred years ago. M'rassi had read several treatises on the vanishing of the dwarves each with different accounts as to why, but each one had a common element. That one instant there were dwarves and in the next, there were none.

They decided to camp the night there, surrounding their small campsite with Lightning Runes and various other protective wards, lest the Falmer come across them while they slept. They went to bed hungry, neither of them could stomach food after finding the gruesome remains of Valie and Endrast. They huddled together, grateful for each other's company in such a dark and forbidding place.

And yet, M'rassi could not shake her bad feeling.

The oddly named Cathedral was a large cavern with a walled and terraced structure opposite the balcony where they emerged. Several of the hideous Falmer skulked outside the walls, several bone and chitin huts nearby. This must be their main camp. There didn't seem to be many down there, but then they had killed dozens of the twisted mer during their passage through the Animonculory. Rising up around the walls of the cavern were several Dwemer towers with great bronze faces peering down at them.

Using their fire spells they quickly disposed of the few Falmer that remained and they went up the first flight of stairs through an arch in the wall. The first terrace held another smaller arch made of the metal. It framed a metal constructed that looked like a man, but was as tall as a giant.

"Look at that!" M'rassi said excitedly.

"It's amazing!" Onmund agreed.

M'rassi went right up to it and examined its legs, trying to work out how they might move with he steam hydraulics encased within. She traced a thin seam in the metal with a claw. As she did so, the thing came to life, swinging down with one great big fist.

"Feim-Zii!" M'rassi Shouted, her body becoming ghostly just as the swing would have connected and it passed straight through.

A moment later, Onmund hit it with a bolt of lightning as M'rassi sprang back out of the way. She turned as her Shout faded and she became corporeal once more.

The steam-centurion tore itself from its arch, slinging a massive strut at Onmund , who dodged it, but only barely. He slipped on the top stair and tumbled down. M'rassi circled around the metal-man firing lightning from one hand and fireballs from the other.

The machine slowly turned to her, stomping down with its huge metal boots.

"Come on, I don't have all gods-damned day!" M'rassi snarled, tail lashing.

With surprising speed it charged at her and M'rassi dove aside as the hulk slammed into the wall, burying its fist. M'rassi picked herself up and backed off, watching the automaton try to free itself. A bolt of lightning struck it and M'rassi spied the Nord climb back onto the terrace weaving a healing spell with his free hand.

"Krii-Lun-Aus!" She Shouted, and the machine shuddered, its unknown power-source draining.

Together the mages pelted they automaton with everything they had until they both ran out of magicka. When the smoke cleared the steam-centurion was laying in a heap, its components scattered.

"Nice." M'rassi said simply and they fist-bumped.

M'rassi unlocked the gate at the top of the stairs and they swung wide open with barely a squeal. She heard the thud of boots on stone and she crouched, waving Onmund down too.

"Sulla, lets just get out of here. Hasn't there been enough death?" Said a woman's voice.

"Oh, of course you want me to leave. Just waiting for me to turn my back. So you can have all the glory for yourself!" Growled a man.

It seemed they'd found the last members of the ill-fated expedition.

"Hey, you hear that?" Said the woman.

They heard a clash of steel as the man attacked the woman. M'rassi and Onmund peeked over the metal box they were hiding behind.

The man, Sulla, was slashing away at a Redguard woman, who was expertly parrying the blows. She must be Umana then. She charged at the wiry Imperial and bashed him with her shield, knocking him down. She lunged and stabbed the man through the throat, almost taking his head off. She spotted the spectators and charged. M'rassi shot a bolt of lightning at her, throwing her back. Onmund followed up with his own a moment later and Umana perished, her body twitching.

"Well, that was quick." M'rassi commented.

"That's all of them, then."

"Bloody fools."

"Aye."

They stripped the small amount of valuables from the bodies and had a look around. At the rear of the chamber was a Dwemer lift, a platform which moved up or down by way of a series of gears and several columns of metal, pocked at even distances. This one appeared to go up to the surface, likely to the camp high up on the glacier. They could find no way down.

M'rassi examined the odd metal box they'd sheltered behind. On the top was a series of concentric rings, and a small hemispherical depression.

"Hey, I think that sphere Septimus gave us goes here." M'rassi said.

Onmund fished the odd device out of his pack and handed to her. She set it into the depression and the circles on top spun around with a whirring sound. When they stopped moving, they heard the grinding sound of stone moving and the floor around the box fell away in segments, settling into a staircase winding downward.

"This looks promising." Onmund smiled.

They went down and found a second lift, this one heading deeper into the belly of Nirn. This must be it, the entrance to Blackreach.

M'rassi stepped in and placed her hand on the lever.

"To Blackreach?" She asked.

"To Blackreach." Onmund agreed with a smile, placing his hand on top of hers.

Together, they pulled the lever and they plunged into the dark. M'rassi still couldn't shake that bad feeling.


	15. Elder Knowledge II

**Chapter Fifteen: Elder Knowledge II.**

"By the Nine!" Onmund whispered.

"Sweet Azurah!" M'rassi agreed.

They stood in the lift and beheld Blackreach.

The cavern was monstrously massive. It stretched far as the eye could see and beyond. Glow-worms dotted the ceiling creating a false night sky, and several waterfalls thundered down, draining from the lakes on the surface. Rivers ran everywhere, and they could see several small lakes from their vantage point. There were hundreds of gigantic mushrooms glowing a soft unwavering blue light in the gloom and trailing long thin threads from the edges of their caps. Even the smallest of these were larger than both M'rassi and Onmund. And the buildings... there were Dwemer buildings everywhere. From small houses to large halls and even larger towers. Off in the distance was a strange orange orb hanging suspended over a knot of buildings several miles away. This artificial sun must be very large, as it appeared to be the same size as a drake held at arms length to them.

They walked out onto a great promenade, an ancient ballista mounted on the corners. From there they could see more of Blackreach, and spied some of it's inhabitants. Falmer skulked in the shadows, while centurion spheres trundled along, patrolling the long forgotten roads.

M'rassi swivelled her ears, trying to catch every sound while she inhaled deeply, using her keen senses to pick up anything her eyes were missing. She could hear the nearby scrabbling of skeevers, and she could smell the acrid insectile stink of chaurus nests. And Falmer, the stench of unwashed mer-flesh was rank in the air. There were a great many of them down here.

But none of that detracted from the stunning beauty of Blackreach.

"I... I..." M'rassi was speechless at the scale of this place.

"I... I never imagined anything like this could exist... " Onmund said softly.

M'rassi threaded her fingers through his. She understood. She hadn't either. They'd both had their assumptions challenged many times on their travels, yet something always managed to surprise them. With her free hand she raised her fist, and Onmund bumped it a moment later. No words were necessary, summed up nicely with the khajiiti gesture. Nothing had shaken her bad feeling though.

"One of these buildings has to be the Tower of Mzark."

"But which one? There must be hundreds of them down here!"

"One of the towers, obviously."

"Well, yeah, but even still, there must be dozens of those, too!"

A sphere centurion rolling along the ancient street below spotted them staring and made a beeline for the stairs leading up to the promenade.

"Look out!" M'rassi pushed the Nord aside as the automaton raised a crossbow-like apparatus mounted on its arm.

The metal bolt skipped off the stone and ricocheted off the mounted ballista with a loud clang. The sound echoed around the hollow. M'rassi and Onmund split up, running around to flank the rolling machine. As smart as they seemed to be, alone they were useless against multiple targets.

It swivelled back and forth on a joint just above the sphere, trying to decide on a target. It picked the Nord, racing across the paved promenade as Onmund dashed off, leaving M'rassi free to attack it.

She charged her lightning spell, the sparks playing across her fingers, and as soon as the machine turned its back, she flung one, then another. The machine twitched, magic barely seemed to do anything against them. But since they didn't have swords, or know how to use them properly, they'd learned that if you pummelled them hard enough they went down like anything else.

Onmund ran straight at the edge of the promenade and vaulted over, dropping to the street below, rolling to soften the impact. The sphere-centurion failed to stop in time before it hit the wall, struck by another bolt of lightning from the khajiit.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" M'rassi Shouted, her Thu'um burning like the sun.

It washed over the automaton and soon it was nothing more than a pile of molten slag.

"Did you get it?" Onmund called up.

"Nothing but scrap now!" She hollered back, tossing his pack down.

Screeches echoed around the chamber, dozens of Falmer screaming their hatred of the intruders. They'd heard the fight. In a place of near silence, the clang of the crossbow bolt on the ballista as well as the thunder clap of M'rassi's lightning spells had drawn the attention of every one of the blind Falmer within their sensitive earshot.

"Oh, gods! We need to move, now!" M'rassi barked at him before she jumped down to the street.

They took off up the road, and soon a Falmer emerged from the shadows, growling savagely, his sharp teeth bared. M'rassi flung a fireball at him and the twisted mer was knocked back. Another bounded across their path, perched on a rock and drew his crude chitin bow. Onmund got that one, slinging his own fireball. His conjured familiar, a spectral wolf, darted off into the gloom, seeking out more of the mutated beasts.

"We're too exposed here!" M'rassi panted as arrows skittered down from the Falmer on the roof tops.

Onmund wasn't listening, slinging fireball after fireball at the horde.

"Yol-Toor- Arrgh!" M'rassi howled when an arrow caught her in the thigh, cutting off her Shout. The half-formed Thu'um torched a pair of mer that emerged from a gap between buildings.

"This way!" Onmund grabbed her and dragged her down a narrow alley.

With a guttural shriek a Falmer bounded after them and snagged her by the tail.

She shrieked in Ta'agra, loosing a torrent of flame from her hands at the hideous mer, who retreated howling.

She limped after Onmund, arrow still in her leg, and he waved her into a down another alley and out onto a rocky ledge. They skidded to a stop at the edge. A hundred feet below several waterfalls plunged into a swift running river, glowing blue in the mushroom-light.

Onmund looked around wild-eyed. There were half a dozen Falmer approaching from either direction. With a hiss of pain, M'assi snapped off the arrow shaft, leaving the barbed tip embedded in the muscle of her leg. She snarled at the advancing mer, ears back, teeth bared and her tail lashing.

The Falmer charged from both sides.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" M'rassi Shouted at one group, sending three of them flying off the ledge.

Onmund flung fireballs at the other group, hitting a few, but soon they were upon them. The Falmer fell on them like a whirlwind. M'rassi ducked a wild swing from one of the eyeless brutes, kicking out with her leg. The Falmer landed on his back and M'rassi charged at another, feinting to the left and drowning it in flame. She heard Onmund grunt in pain, whirled around and Shouted.

"Faas-Ru-Maar!"

Several of the Falmer turned tail and fled into the dark, terrified of M'rassi's Thu'um. Onmund had a ward up, fending of the spells of a Falmer mage, which was slinging ice spears at him with savage glee. M'rassi quickly dropped a fireball at the feet of her group and they recoiled, covering their hideous faces with their hands. She side-stepped around the Nord, flung a fireball and watched the Falmer mage fly back. The spectral wolf charged in and tore out the throat of the beast.

M'rassi heard a scuffing from behind her, hackles raised she twisted her head-

-and was slammed in the side by a rampaging chaurus. She sailed through the air and out over the void.

Onmund roared wordlessly as he watched with horrifying clarity as she started to fall, her eyes bulging, arms and legs flailing for something to grab onto and finding nothing.

M'rassi yowled as she plummeted. She caught a glimpse of Onmund watching her with a gut-wrenching expression before a Falmer clubbed him over the head and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. She plunged down toward the river, twisting in mid-air to correct herself, landing feet first into the water with a mighty splash, and all went black.

She groaned as she stirred. Her body hurt all over, and she was cold. And wet. Why was she wet? It hurt to think. The river. She was falling, looking back up and she saw-

"Onmund!" She sat bolt upright, her head swimming.

She was sitting in the river, her clothes soaking, a dull throb in her leg. She didn't recognise the rocks or buildings around her, she must have been swept downstream quite a way. The last thing she remembered was-

Oh gods, Onmund was dead. If that blow hadn't killed him, then what happened to that mage, Valie, would... Oh gods, it's my fault! I should have made him go back to the College! She thought, tears streaming down her face.

It had all happened so quickly. She wept for her lost love for a several minutes before she remembered what she'd made him promise. That no matter what, the Elder Scroll was what mattered. He wouldn't want her to wander around weeping at a time like this. He wouldn't want her to cheapen his death by falling to pieces now. She had to find the Elder Scroll or all of it was for naught. That strengthened her resolve. He'd died well and there was no sorrow in that, a belief both their peoples had in common.

Wiping the tears from her eyes she hauled herself out the water, peeled off her sodden clothes and wrung them out, noticing that Malborn's old satchel was missing. She'd been wearing it when she went over. Panicking she checked around the rocks, but to no avail, it was gone. Along with all their food and her winter cloak.

She still had her lucky dagger at least, tucked in her boot, that was something. She dried her clothes quickly with a small burst of flame, and slipped them back on. There were a few tears from where they had caught on rocks during her passage downriver. Why did her leg still hurt?

She still had the Falmer arrow head stuck in her flesh, it had not gone all the way through. It had worked it's way deeper, and only half an inch of the snapped shaft jutted from the oddly bloodless wound. She sat heavily on the stony shore of the river and she slipped out her dagger. She pulled off her apothecary satchel, miraculously still slung over her shoulder and folded the strap into a thick wad, biting down on it with her sharp molars. She heated the blade of the dagger until it glowed a dull orange and she carefully drove it into her leg, running along the arrow shaft.

She howled through her leather gag as she felt the tip of the dagger brushed the chitin arrowhead. Her leg jerked at the jolt and she fought hard against her body to stop the reflex. She pressed the blade away from the arrow, opening a small pocket where the foreign object could move freely. She quickly whipped out the barbed arrowhead with a muffled shriek and dropped it. She pulled out her dagger, the heated blade cauterising the wound so it didn't bleed. She dropped the leather strap, sheared right through by her teeth and completely ruined, and fished out the last of the blue mountain flowers. She had no idea how long she'd been out, but the longer she left it, the greater the chance of infection, even with magical healing. She didn't want to take any chances so she chewed the dried petals into a pulp and smeared it into the wound, hissing with pain.

She carefully weaved her magicka into a healing spell, and carefully knitted her violated muscles back together, finishing with the skin melting shut, leaving a small grey scar. Another one for the collection.

M'rassi cleaned the small amount of blood off her now cool dagger and slipped it back into her boot. She looked around for a high point so she could get her bearings.

"Laas-Yah-Nir!" She whispered the Shout.

Her whispered Thu'um reached out and searched for any life force in the area. It painted her vision with a red haze where it found only a single life, something man sized, several dozen meters away. She cast a muffling spell on her boots, thanking J'zargo for teaching her while they were still at the College. She crept forward slowly, the instincts of a hunter taking over. Silently she pulled the lucky dagger out of her boot, she didn't want to risk any more attention with her magic. Ears forward and low, tail swishing slowly, she approached the life form and peeked over a rock to see it.

It was a chaurus ripping apart the corpse of a skeever, devouring the rat-like animal with gusto. It hadn't seen her yet, and there were no Falmer lurking nearby, her Thu'um would have revealed them. She got an idea.

"Raan-Mir-Tah!" She Shouted at the beast, her Thu'um overpowering its mind and bending it to her will. She rarely used this Shout, but if she moved carefully, and with a chaurus by her side, she might just be mistaken for a Falmer. It was worth a try.

She tugged on the small knot of alien emotions nestled in the back of her mind and the chaurus obediently came over to her. Quivering, she reached out and touched its rough carapace, feeling the waxy substance that extruded from between the chitin plates. She smeared the thick paste over her robes and on her face, hoping that it would mask her khajiiti scent.

Again she plucked on the chaurus' mind, testing the bond to see how well the beast knew the area. Chaurus were about as intelligent as a dog, and were trained by the Falmer as hunting beasts, as well as a food source. This particular chaurus had slipped away from its handler several hours ago to search for food. M'rassi dismissed those thoughts, sifting through its insectile memories and impressing a feeling of a high place. The chaurus chattered softly, clicking its long mandibles. It did know a high place, should they go there? M'rassi thought the affirmative, and the chaurus turned around and walked off on six misshapen legs. She followed it, pressing on its mind to stay away from other chaurus and Falmer. It lead her up a narrow rocky path and out of the river canyon.

It wasn't long, an hour maybe, of slinking through shadows and weaving around partly buried buildings, that the chaurus led her to some sort of beacon tower. It was a small ziggurat, a thin edge winding its way to the top where a flame fuelled by natural gas from Dwemer pipes burned in a brass cage.

From here she could see the strange orange orb suspended over a knot of buildings, but it was even further away now that it had been when she'd first set foot in Blackreach. She should have listened more to her bad feeling, now Onmund was dead and she was down here alone. Well, not quite, the chaurus was radiating an odd sense of sympathy through the bond. That at least implied that either Falmer were capable of complex emotion other than hate or that the chaurus were more dog-like than anyone realised.

M'rassi made a quick mental map of the area, aiming for the artificial sun. It would take a few days to reach it, if she went carefully and didn't run into any problems. She beckoned to her chaurus thrall with her mind and they began the trek to the silent city, long forgotten by the surface world.

He was lying on the hard earth and the stink of Falmer and chaurus filled his nostrils. His head hurt from where he'd been clubbed, and his eyes were almost glued shut with a mix of blood and dirt. He moved his hands, bound by a strange rope made from fibres of the giant glowing mushrooms, and picked at the gunk encrusting his eyelids.

Onmund forced his eyes open, and for a moment he thought he'd gone blind, he couldn't see a thing. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he saw he was in some sort of hut, crudely fashioned out of chaurus chitin, mushroom stems and bits of Dwemer metal. The door was barred, again with a mismatched assortment of materials.

He didn't know how long he'd been out for this time. He'd woken once before, when they were moving him, and when they noticed he was awake, they'd forced some foul concoction down his throat. He'd tried to spit it out, and many of them ended up wearing the liquid before he was cuffed by a big Falmer and forced to drink the rest by clawed hands pinching his mouth shut. Within minutes all had gone black again.

He sat up and took stock of what he had. Oddly enough he had almost everything in the cage with him. His robes were pretty badly torn and dirty, so too was his satchel, with his journal and potions. One of the bottles had smashed, a magicka potion from the smell of it, and at the bottom thankfully. It had not soaked into the book, instead seeping through the cloth to pool on the hard packed dirt below. His hunting bow and quiver had been tossed in after he'd been thrown inside, the arrows scattered haphazardly. They were mostly intact. The only thing missing was M'rassi...

Oh gods, she was dead. There was no way she could have survived that fall. Never again would he hold her, feel her lovely tail curl around his waist... Onmund felt his eyes tearing up, but he fought them back, she wouldn't want him moping around. He remembered the promise that he'd made to her. That finding the Elder Scroll was what mattered. But she'd been wrong. Without the Dragonborn, the Scroll would be useless. He'd failed to protect her, and now she was dead. All hope was lost. Alduin would conquer Nirn and devour the world.

No! She'd once asked him that if she didn't do it, who would? He'd told her flatly that he would. And he'd meant it, he still meant it. No, he was a Nord! He couldn't just sit around while Alduin ravaged his homeland! Especially not when he could do something about it. No! He would find this Elder Scroll and beg Paarthurnax to teach him how to use the Thu'um like M'rassi. He may not be Dragonborn, but at least he'd try!

He could almost hear her voice now, 'Fool Nords and your thick-skulled stubbornness!' The thought gave him strength. First, he needed to find away out of his trap.

He tried the bars of his cage, but they wouldn't move. He could see several Falmer huddling around a small fire, one of them stroking a chaurus almost lovingly. One with a scarred face cocked his head, turning his eyeless gaze toward him, and gave a low warning growl when it heard him rattling the bars. The others didn't even stir. He retreated back into the dark, and gathered up his arrows, formulating a plan as he slipped them back into his quiver, checking them one by one for any bends or breaks, discarding those that were useless. He checked his bowstring and found it remarkably undamaged.

He went back to the bars, and taking care not to make a sound he threaded his hand his hand through. He focussed his magicka, embracing its comfort. He weaved the threads into the spell to conjure his familiar. Onmund stroked the spectral wolf's head impressing on it a desire to sow chaos by the fire. The wolf padded off obediently.

Onmund drew his bow, aiming the arrow through the gaps in the bars, and when the Falmer noticed the wolf, he fired at scar-face, catching the twisted mer in his gaping mouth. The ghostly wolf leapt at the chaurus, tearing off one of the mandibles, before running off into the dark. The Falmer took after it, and Onmund brought two more down before they all vanished.

Without waiting he threw himself at the bars, using his farm boy strength to push them loose from the woven door frame. The wolf bounded across the entrance and Onmund brought his bow up in time to take out another Falmer. Once they were gone again he slipped out of the hut, pulling his knapsack out and slinging it over his shoulder. He slunk around the back of another tent, firing another arrow as the wolf darted past. He missed the pair of Falmer that remained and with a soft curse he ducked back into the shadow.

He heard an odd chattering behind him, and the wounded chaurus was rushing at him from the fireplace. He feinted left, and formed a spear of ice in his hands. The massive insect twisted around and Onmund stabbed down, hard. The ice punched through the carapace and into the soft internal organs. With a squeal, the fight left the chaurus and it collapsed.

The Familiar dashed into the firelight, only a single Falmer followed it now, it must have savaged the other. Onmund gave a sharp whistle and the spectral wolf whirled around to snarl at the eyeless brute that had stopped. The mutated mer was growling at Onmund, pinpointing his location from his whistle. Exactly what Onmund wanted. He fired another arrow at the beast as it began to move, hitting it right between the sunken sockets where the eyes should be. It crashed to the ground, gouging a furrow in the dirt.

"Any more?" He asked the familiar with both his voice and mind.

The wolf gave a faint snort, nothing.

"Thank you, Figge." He ruffled the ghostly fur and the Familiar huffed.

Learning how to summon a familiar had been one of the first spells Onmund had ever learned. When he was just eight years old, a Breton mage had passed through town and Onmund had begged to see some magic. The mage had demonstrated the Familiar spell, and Onmund had followed him around asking as many questions about magic as he could. The old man had finally agreed to teach him the spell. He remembered the first time he'd conjured the wolf, the rush of his magicka and the warmth of the spectral wolf through the bond. It was always the same wolf, which he'd named Figge, after his grandfather. The wolf had always helped when his brothers bullied him, growling menacingly at the boys after Onmund summoned him. Figge was the only company he had now that M'rassi was gone.

The Falmer camp was perched on a rocky crag overlooking a small forest of the glowing mushrooms. Off in the distance he could see the artificial sun chained over a cluster of buildings. It must be an important place to warrant the Dwemer putting something like that over it. Maybe this Tower of Mzark was there.

"Come on, Figge. Let's go find this Elder Scroll." Onmund said and they set off for the orange globe.

M'rassi followed the chaurus up a broad flight of stairs to a massive plaza. The sun-orb hung overhead spilling orange light over the area. Around her several buildings rose, some almost touching the ceiling of Blackreach high above. Falmer stalked the ramparts of the walls bounding the lost Dwemer city, listening for any automatons that tried to reclaim the ruin.

It had taken her almost three days to get here. M'rassi's plan had worked well enough. She'd managed to avoid any tough fights, the chaurus leading her around the large camps. She'd run into a few lone mer, but they quickly fell to her lucky dagger. She dared not use her magic.

The chaurus had also been useful seeking out safe places for her to sleep as well as bringing her food, usually skeevers when it sensed her hunger. She had to admit that, despite it's grotesque appearance, the chaurus had proved an invaluable ally. She'd had to renew the bond a few times when she'd felt the bundle of thoughts in the back of her mind receding from her. The Shout didn't last forever.

She mentally ordered it forward, labelling the Falmer on the heights as enemies. With a shriek the chaurus rushed away, seeking out it's former masters to slay. M'rassi herself crept up behind a Falmer that was roaming on the plaza. Her tail twitched in anticipation of a kill and she quickly dashed forward, grabbed the Falmer's mouth, pulled him close and rammed her dagger into his neck. She barely even made a sound.

"Laas-Yah-Nir!" She whispered the Shout and several red splashes lit up her vision, including her chaurus thrall. The bundle of emotions at the back of her mind told her it was revelling in the slaughter. She sent a praise through the bond.

M'rassi went after the nearest life she sensed, and pounced on a Falmer who was waxing his chitin shield. She slit his throat and lowered him to the floor, twisting her ears back and forth seeking other targets. Her natural hunters instincts had grown sharply over the last few days and she'd grown a lot more confident.

Within half an hour, she and the chaurus had cleared out the knot of buildings of the Falmer. She sat down on the flag stones of the plaza, panting heavily, wiping the merish blood off her dagger. Her Thu'um showed her the chaurus approaching. She reached up and patted the top of its head when it lowered it's mandibles.

She took a moment to study the ruins in more detail, now that she was out of immediate danger. The place seemed to resemble the College of Winterhold at first glance. There were several great halls coming off the main plaza. A quick glance inside revealed terraces around podiums. Debate Halls. She'd read accounts of expeditions onto Dwemer ruins back when she was still a Synod apprentice in Riverhold. One of them had described something similar, a Dwemer ruin in mainland Morrowind before the collapse of the Septim dynasty and the Argonian invasion from Black Marsh.

None of them looked like the Tower of Mzark however, and she stalked back out to the plaza, scowling. She spied a bronze line on one of the flagstones, and almost shrugged it off. Many of them had such markings but something in her told her they were significant. Just a feeling.

She traced the line with her eyes and suddenly it dawned on her. She ran up onto the wall so she could see the pattern better. It was a map of Blackreach set into the flagstones of the plaza with wide ribbons of the Dwemer alloy. There were a great many circular plates labelled with the Dwemeri script. Standing out though were five points, five large diamond shaped plates arranged in a rough lopsided square with one in the middle. She went back down and examined the middle plate. It was engraved with a representation of the sun-sphere and labelled with something in Dwemeris underneath. The plate was aligned to the four points of the compass. So she was here, at the middle mark. She thought hard on when they entered Blackreach from Alftand. The orb had been southwest, making the diamond to the north-east as Alftand. When she examined the plate, it had a carved representation of a centurion sphere. The plate to the south-east was marked with a set of scales, maybe a market city. The north west plate was marked with a lever.

And the plate south west of the sun-sphere was marked with a scroll. The Tower of Mzark! She'd found it! And if she judged the distance correctly, it was only a half-days journey from here, provided nothing went wrong. She danced a little khajiiti jig, she was so happy to be out of this place. Onmund had always laughed at her peculiar habit. Thoughts of the Nord quickly damped down her mood. She missed him terribly.

Steeling herself, she swallowed her grief before it consumed her. She looked up at the sun-globe, shining above her with an unwavering light. She wondered how the Dwemer had got it up there and what was it, that made it shine so? Her curiosity was coming back, this place was amazing! She would have to come back here one day, with a whole team from the College, and they could survey the ruins properly. The Dwemer specialist, Arniel Gane, would love this place. She wondered what would happen if she Shouted at the globe. Probably nothing. Why not?

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" M'rassi Shouted.

Her Thu'um hit the globe and it rang; a metal clang producing a pure, clear note that echoed throughout Blackreach in its entirety.

Onmund waded through a half-flooded pumping station below the silent city with the orange orb hanging above it. It had taken longer than he'd liked to get here. M'rassi's curiosity had rubbed off on him and he'd frequently stopped to sketch an odd artefact, ruin or the odd glowing mushroom. He'd spied several Falmer and a chaurus on the battlements and decided to find another way in.

Figge had helped keep him safe over the last few days, drawing away any Falmer he came across so he could sneak away. It had even flushed out skeevers for him, and found some chaurus nests, which Onmund had raided for eggs. Even now, the familiar was scouting the passage ahead of him.

It bounded across the surface of the water to him, excited about something. It tilted it's head and twitched it's ears. A soft feeling came through the bond, nothing specific. Onmund got the sense it wanted him to listen.

So he did, closing his eyes and listening hard to the sounds around him. He heard... something. He twisted his head back and forth, trying to hear better, annoyed at his own limited body. Then he caught it. It was faint and difficult to hear over the rush of the knee-deep water, but there it was.

The tolling of a bell.

M'rassi could hear the shrieks of Falmer calling in the dark, alarmed hoots ringing out. She panicked, she'd be overwhelmed if they all came here. But when she listened the Falmer voices were receding. They were running away!

Why were they running away?

The answer came soon after, when a roar sounded in the distance.

Oh gods, a dragon? Down here? Despite being Dragonborn, she'd never faced a dragon alone before. She's always had someone else with her, whether it was Onmund or a small army of guards. This would really test her abilities.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" M'rassi spotted the dragon spewing fire into the ruins in the distance.

She couldn't believe her luck! The dragon was chasing the Falmer! That's why they were running! She could take advantage of this, hiding until it killed the Falmer, who in turn would soften it up for her. It might seem cowardly, but a smart khajiit knows that sometimes it is necessary to run away.

She watched the dragon flying through the cavern, swooping down and catching Falmer, tearing them apart with its teeth and claws, raining blood and internal organs on the fleeing mer. It was grotesque, but M'rassi couldn't tear her eyes away, her curiosity taking a morbid turn.

A few brave Falmer fired arrows at the draconic shadow, using their keen hearing and smell to predict where the dragon would be. Most of them missed, the dragon turning swiftly, lashing out with its thick tail, but a few got lucky piercing the ragged wings or the soft skin of its neck.

How long had the brute been down here? Had it been alive all this time, like Paarthurnax? Some lucky dragon that had survived the Dragon war and was captured by the Dwemer?

M'rassi ducked as it made a pass over the plaza, diving behind a broken statue. The dragon dived and scooped up a steam-centurion, tearing it apart with barely an effort, strewing metal plates, gears and components all over the place. M'rassi readied her magic, her chaurus thrall chattering excitedly.

The insect ran off after the dragon, spitting globs of poisonous saliva. The dragon spied it moving and made a low pass, Shouting a stream of fire across the plaza.

M'rassi picked that moment to attack. She hurled a bolt of lightning, she didn't care about the noise anymore. The dragon would be too tough for her to kill without her magic, and besides, the dragon had killed a great deal of Falmer and was likely weakened.

With a deep growl the dragon swooped down beyond the wall of the silent city, and out of sight. M'rassi heard a crash as it landed on the stone-paved road. She and the chaurus dashed out of the walled plaza and down to where the dragon waited.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" M'rassi Shouted a torrent of icy air at maroon scaled dragon.

"Dovahkiin? Het? Yol-Toor-Shul!" The dragon Shouted back, and M'rassi leapt aside.

The chaurus wasn't fast enough and it was engulfed by the flames. M'rassi could feel the creatures pain through the bond before it expired, and she felt sorry for it. With a full-throated roar she flung bolt after bolt of lightning at the dragon, ducking its slashing fangs and wing-claws. The dragon took flight once again, buffeting M'rassi with the wind from his mighty wings.

M'rassi slung another lightning bolt at the dragon as it flew off, sweeping right around the silent city before coming back.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" It gushed flames at M'rassi but she was prepared, leaping out of the way at the last second.

"Krii-Lun-Aus!" She Shouted as he passed, the Thu'um heralding the dragon's doom by weakening it's life force.

The dragon howled with rage, making a tight turn and tumbling from the air. It crashed through the stem of one of the gigantic glowing mushrooms and it plummeted to the ground, snagged on the threads trailing from the cap, dragging the whole thing down with it.

M'rassi calmly walked up to the tangled brute, who was desperately trying to free himself from his binds. She charged lightning with both hands and drew her breath.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" She shouted, loosing her lightning alongside her fiery Thu'um.

The dragon roared in pain and sagged when M'rassi cut off her Shout. With dozens of Falmer arrows sticking out of it's body, energy sapped by her Thu'um, electricity making its nerves twitch jerkily the dragon was finished.

"Oblaan aus, Dovahkiin... " It rumbled, almost pleading. "Volaan!"

"Geh." She answered in kind and she thrusted her dagger into it's neck.

"Faasnu Dovahkiin." It sighed before M'rassi cut it's throat, ending his long years of suffering below ground. He'd begged her to end it quickly.

She welcomed his soul into her. She felt his name surface. Vulthuryol. Dark-Overlord-Fire. She felt all his long years pour into her, and she knew what she had suspected was true. He seized a Word in her mind. Kest. Tempest. Her Whirlwind Sprint Shout was complete.

M'rassi thought she should feel victorious, and she supposed she did in a way. She'd taken on a dragon alone, and come out unscathed. There was likely nothing that could stop her now. Except the victory felt hollow. With Onmund dead, there was no one to share in her triumph. With a deep sigh, she crushed her emotions down. She would mourn later, once she'd gotten out of this gods-forsaken pit.

She walked back to the plaza map and got her bearings. She rested for a few minutes on the ramparts, trying to plot a route to the Tower of Mzark from the sun-orb. With the Falmer scattered by Vulthuryol the roads should be relatively safe.

Onmund emerged from the pumping station into the silent city plaza an hour later. He was surprised to find the dead Falmer in the plaza, but judging from the scattered metal parts, they'd run afoul of a steam-centurion. Figge was off skulking around the plaza but soon returned, finding nothing.

He was quick to notice the map on the tiles, and consulting the battered copy of an ancient Dwemeri text which had first been translated into Aldmeris, then into Tamrielic, he worked out where he was and which one of the plates was the Tower of Mzark. He made a quick sketch of the sun-globe, the plaza and it's map in his journal. Motioning for the Familiar to follow he set off for the forgotten keep.

M'rassi reached the Tower several hours later. Her body clock told her it was getting late at night, not that were was such a thing down here. She also noticed her withdrawal tremors were getting worse. Her moon sugar had been in Malborn's satchel and without it she was starting to suffer. She sat down in front of the Tower doors, exhausted. Maybe she should nap before she started the ascent? She'd had a rough few days and would kill Alduin himself, right now, if it got her a hot meal and a warm bed. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

But she found she couldn't sleep; her mind kept replaying that instant when Onmund was clubbed by the Falmer. He'd probably wound up in the Falmer's cook pot by now, like the mage from the expedition, Valie. The very thought brought bile up her throat and tears to her eyes. She did not want to think about it.

She suddenly felt something touch her nose and she just about jumped out of her skin as a spectral wolf licked her muzzle. Where had it come from? She recognized the ghostly form, much to her surprise.

"Figge?" She asked. It couldn't be, could it? She heard boots thumping on the worn road and she lit her mage light, flaring it brightly so she could see who approached.

Striding toward her, with a look of stunned disbelief on his face, was Onmund. In an instant she was on her feet, charging at him. He caught her and crushed her slight frame to him, welcoming the tail curling around his waist. She rained kisses all over his face, and he did the same to her. Tears of joy ran freely from their eyes.

"Azurah's whiskers, I thought I'd lost you!" She whispered into his ear.

"Shor's blood, I thought I lost you too!" He squeezed her tightly.

They laughed in the sheer joy of being together again, they never wanted to let each other go. They filled each other in on what happened over the last few days, still wrapped in each other's arms as they spoke. Finally they remembered why they were down in this gods-forsaken place to begin with.

"Trouble? Or treasure?" Onmund asked.

"Definitely treasure. The sooner we get the Scroll, the sooner we can get out of this gods-forsaken shit-hole." M'rassi sighed tiredly.

The Tower of Mzark was a tall narrow building that disappeared into the rock high above. It had an ornate metal door cast from the familiar Dwemer alloy. They pushed them aside with a clang, revealing a small room with many gears and a lever. It was a lift, like the one that had brought them down here from Alftand.

As they rode up, Onmund noticed M'rassi's tremors. Her hands and ears were shaking and her whiskers were drooping. Her mouth was open slightly and she was panting softly.

"You lost your moon sugar, didn't you?" He took her hands to still them.

"Along with all the food, my winter cloak and bedroll." She told him.

"How bad is it?"

"Worse than when I first met you. Aside from the shakes, my mouth feels like I have the entire Ne-Quin-Al desert inside it and I feel sick." M'rassi sighed. In truth, it was worse than she was letting on. She felt like the moons themselves were bouncing around in her skull and she kept getting hot and cold flushes. But she didn't want to worry him. They'd both done enough of that in the last few days.

He put an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned on him heavily until the lift clunked loudly and stopped moving. "Come on, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get you some more."

They pushed open the doors and found a makeshift campsite that looked ancient. M'rassi briefly thought about pilfering the bedroll, but the leather had hardened with age and had been chewed up by skeevers.

Pushing through another set of doors they were greeted with a perfectly smooth sphere the size of M'rassi's house in Whiterun, Breezehome. It hadn't even tarnished throughout the ages, and their warped faces were reflected back at them. Dotted across the surface were green crystal plates and the whole thing hummed audibly.

They followed the base around then up a ramp to a platform built around the very top of the mysterious orb. The top third poked through the scaffolding, and had a mechanism similar to the lockbox that Septimus Signus was obsessed with. Around that were several stone tables each with an ornate mesh-like metal chair. There was a skeleton sitting in one, and not the kind that would attack them. On the table next to it was a red leather bound folio. Across from them rose a small catwalk with what looked like a control station on it.

Suspended above the whole thing, directly over the center of the orb was the most complex contraption of curved struts, hinges, gears and lenses that M'rassi had ever seen. This was where the Dwemer kept the Elder Scroll? She spied an egg-shaped case of the finest green glass buried deep in the complicated mechanism.

"By the Twin Moons!" She whispered.

Onmund breathed a quiet 'By the Nine' beside her.

It was beautiful, mind-bogglingly so.

"You think the Scroll is in there?" M'rassi pointed to the glass-egg.

"Let's find out!" Onmund grinned.

"Reckon our friend over there might know how this thing works?"

"Maybe." Onmund shrugged, grabbing the red folio and following M'rassi up to the control panel.

"Poor bastard got caught in here by wolves up top and the Falmer down below. His handwriting is hard to read, sorry. He said half the buttons don't work and unless you have a box, the whole thing sort of sits there, inert."

"Think this is where that lexicon Septimus gave us might come in handy?" M'rassi asked, pointing to an inverted pyramid set into a pedestal.

Onmund fished the box out of his knapsack and set it into the recess with a thunk. The whole apparatus made a whirring sound and the hum got louder. Light was shining through the mechanism and a pair of buttons lit up on the panel.

M'rassi pressed one and the loops on the top of the orb arced up and over, a nested sphere inside moving to slide a lens underneath the hanging cage.

"Whoa, I have to draw this!" Onmund pulled out his journal and rested his inkpot on the panel.

M'rassi tried the other button and the mechanism slid back. She tried pressing one of the unlit buttons, but nothing happened.

"Huh?" She grunted, pushing the first button again.

"Hey look!" Onmund pointed at a button that had just lit up.

M'rassi pushed the new button and the struts hanging above the orb shifted, whirling around into new positions. It was amazing.

"Let's do that again!" She grinned and mashed the button again.

The struts weaved and sailed back to their original position. She watched every little hinge and movement, fascinated. She could do this all day. She noticed the last button on the console was now lit. She pressed it eagerly.

The beam of light shone down even brighter as a lens slid in place above the glass egg. The struts moved their own lenses right out of the way as the cage of the glass egg lowered itself. With a loud ticking noise three rings holding smaller crystal globes moved into a plane across the equator of the egg. A lever swung down bringing the egg with it, rotated onto its side and split it open, revealing an ornate ivory tube which glowed with an ethereal light.

The Elder Scroll.

Without a word, M'rassi held her fist out to Onmund and he bumped it back. She slowly went down to the lower platform, not taking her eyes off it for a second, just in case it disappeared. With what she'd read about the Elder Scrolls anything was possible. She cautiously approached the egg and it's precious contents.

Gingerly she touched the Scroll. Nothing happened. Reverently she picked it up from its cradle and the ethereal glow faded, but not completely. The ends of the ivory case were sealed with richly decorated mithril, encrusted with gemstones of an unreal shade of purple, darker than amethysts. There was also a starburst with another of the purple gems inset into the ivory, below that was a mithril bar, anchored to the paper-like substance of the Scroll itself. M'rassi fought very hard to resist the temptation to read it here and now. She did not want to wind up like Septimus.

"By the Nine! An Elder Scroll. I can't believe it." Onmund said from behind her, his voice full of awe.

"I know. Its... its... surreal." She whispered back. "Come on, we should get out of here."

"Alright, so what's the plan?"

"First, we need to disguise this. It would draw too much attention if we traipsed around Skyrim with an Elder Scroll in plain sight. Second, we take that box back to Septimus. Third, we pick up the rest of our gear from the College." She said, removing her outer robes and belt, wrapping the Scroll inside and strapping it around her waist.

"If J'zargo hasn't purloined it." Onmund smirked, helping her secure the precious bundle.

"Ha! Fourth, we go to Riften, and last we take the Scroll to Paarthurnax."

"Riften? Why Riften?"

M'rassi took his hands. "The Temple of Mara." She said softly.

"You mean you want to- "

"Yes." She said simply.

"Oh, Mara! You and Me? Marry? You've made me the happiest man alive! But... But I'm the one supposed to ask you! I'm the one with the Amulet of Mara! It's tradition!" He started babbling until M'rassi pressed a clawed finger to his lips. It was only now that he noticed she'd pilfered the Amulet from his pack at some point since their reunion, and was wearing it prominently displayed over her under-tunic. That canny khajiit!

"Not for Khajiit. Now, just shut up and kiss me!" M'rassi growled softly, smiling cheekily.

And so he did.


	16. Alduin's Bane

**Chapter Sixteen: Alduin's Bane.**

M'rassi and Onmund emerged from the Tower of Mzark in the hills of the border between the Pale and Hjaalmarch Holds. Even though it was dark, they were relieved to see the sky again. They trekked northward to Dawnstar, a forlorn cluster of buildings in a natural harbour on the Sea of Ghosts. They arranged for couriers to deliver messages to some of the friends they'd made on their travels, informing them of their intention to marry in Riften in nine days hence. This would coincide with the New Life Festival, when Evening Star rolled over to Morning Star and the year of Akatosh 4E202 would begin. By Emperor's decree all taverns in the Empire gave away free ale and mead as the people celebrated the beginning of the new year.

It also gave them time to run the inscribed lexicon to the mad man, Septimus Signus, out on the ice fields. They also had time to return to the College briefly to pick up M'rassi's old patched knapsack and get some more moon sugar from Enthir. They also retrieved their books from Urag gro-Shub, but didn't mention the Elder Scroll to him. They thought it best to keep that secret, for now.

Brelyna and J'zargo travelled with them to Riften and they arrived with a couple of days to spare. They made all the arrangements with a flustered Redguard called Maramal at the Temple of Mara. The New Life Festival was a popular time for weddings and there were dozens of couples arranging to be wed that day.

They spent the last day of Evening Star at the Bee and Barb Inn which was jam-packed with people drinking the bar dry, singing and laughing and dancing. It was one of the few times of the year that the citizens of fair Skyrim let down their hair and enjoyed the revelry. If M'rassi had not seen it with her own eyes, she would not have known the Nords were capable of such debauchery.

It was fascinating.

On the day, the couple weaved through the tight-packed crowd in the Temple of Mara to a small side room, where they were fussed over by a Dunmer woman. She gave them some marriage robes to wear, an elaborate affair of red velvet and white ribbon with a symbol of Mara embroidered on the back. She presented them each with a wreath woven from fresh Falkreath winter-roses and ushered them into the queue before turning her attention to another couple.

They were the sixth in line, behind an Argonian couple whose bright green scales clashed horribly with the red robes. Soon it was their turn, and when the Dunmer woman waved them on they marched out of the side room and up to the altar. They stood hand-in-hand while the priest, Maramal, finished taking a sip of water. The poor man had been speaking all morning, and the day was still young, with many more couples to marry. He gave a huge grin to the couple before him, then to the audience.

"It was Mara that first gave birth to creation and pledged to watch over us as her children." Maramal paused. He would be repeating these words many times today. "It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone, is no life at all."

M'rassi flicked her ear, this was much different from Elsweyr. Much more simple, almost quaint.

"We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship."

He turned to Onmund first, as was tradition. "Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?"

"I do. Now and forever." Onmund said solemnly.

M'rassi felt like a bell was ringing in her head. She'd heard him say those words before. She bowed her head as Onmund placed the crown of flowers on the top, carefully avoiding snagging them on her earrings.

"Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?" Maramal was addressing her.

"I do. Now and forever." She said smiling, for she had remembered that she herself had said these words to Onmund, at Sky Haven Temple. Her ears twitched in amusement as she reached up and placed the flowers on his head, noticing his flushed look. Evidently he'd been thinking of that same morning.

"Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed!" Maramal announced handing them each a gold ring engraved with Mara's symbol. "I present the two of you these matching rings, blessed by Mara's divine grace. May they protect each of you in your new life together."

They made a show of exchanging the rings and shared a kiss before a short Imperial man waved them into another side room. They changed out of the formal wear and back into their ordinary robes, though they kept their flowers on their heads. It was tradition that they should wear them the whole day.

Outside they met with the guests that had braved the harsh winter weather to come. There was Lucan Valerius and his sister from Riverwood; Lydia, M'rassi's Housecarl; Brelyna and J'zargo; Etienne Rarnis from the Thieves Guild, looking much healthier since M'rassi busted him from his incarceration; and finally Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone of Morthal. The others were surprised that a Jarl would deign to come to a wedding, never mind the small entourage of guards milling around nearby with Idgrod's Housecarl. Lydia had brought a letter from Farengar Secret-Fire apologising for his absence but congratulating them all the same. Onmund's family were conspicuously absent, despite sending a letter to them. This disappointed him, but he tried not to let his spirits get down, it was his wedding day after all. Maybe the courier had been waylaid? It was known to happen.

Everyone's spirits were high and they spent the afternoon at the Black-Briar Meadery making the most of the free booze. J'zargo and Etienne had made it a competition to solve dirty riddles and Brelyna was whispering with Lydia and Lucan's sister, Camilla, the three of them looking pointedly at the dark-haired Imperial. Lucan himself was awkwardly listening to Jarl Idgrod, who was telling him about what she used to get up to when she was his age. M'rassi and Onmund were, like the others, enjoying the warm fug of inebriation, laughing and clapping as tales were told and songs were sung.

An older Khajiit dressed in blue robes cut in the Dunmer-style, came and offered his congratulations. When he shook their hands, they saw he was wearing a peculiar ring, adorned with the moon-and-star symbol typical of worshippers of Azura, the Daedric Prince of Dawn and Dusk. He muttered something about how a wheel turned on it's side was an 'I', the Tower of the Aurbis, before he melted into the crowd. They stared after him, clearly the old cat was mad.

The celebrations carried on into the night, and it had to happen at some point. The bard in the corner began to strum the opening bars of Ragnar the Red, the most popular song in Skyrim. Onmund turned to M'rassi with a devilish grin on his face.

"Shall we?"

"Why not?"

They climbed up onto a table with their flagons of mead and linked each others arms. They were not alone. Several other tables already bore happily drunk people, a few bearing the floral wreaths of newlyweds. When the bard began to sing they joined in, kicking and dancing on the tabletops. The rest of the audience gave them a wide berth, clapping in delight and singing along too.

_" Oh there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red_

_Who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead_

_And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade_

_As he told of bold battles and gold he had made_

_But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red_

_When he met the shieldmaiden Matilda who said;_

_'Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead_

_Now I think its high time that you lie down and bleed'_

_And so then came clashing and slashing of steel_

_As the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal_

_And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no moooooooore_

_When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor"_

Everyone chugged down their mead at the end of the song, whether their flagons were almost empty or almost full. It was nice to relax and enjoy themselves, for the moment Alduin and the Elder Scroll ceased to exist.

Finally, when the sky was dark, the moons were high, the aurora undulating across the stars, they retired to their room at the Bee and Barb, too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

# # # # # # # # #

The snow crunched beneath their boots as they hiked up to the Throat of the World. They'd left most of their gear in the main hall of High Hrothgar, opting to take only a small amount of food, a few potions and the Elder Scroll up to the peak. Without their usual load they made good time, making the summit by mid-morning.

Paarthurnax was waiting for them, sunning himself on one of the rocky crags. He twisted his great head to address them as they approached.

"You have it. The Kel - the Elder Scroll. Tiid krent... qalos. Time shudders at it's touch. There is no question. You are doom-driven. Kogaan Akatosh. The very bones of the earth are at your disposal." He rumbled.

M'rassi took the mithril and ivory case and handed her pack to her husband, secretly marvelling at the fact she could call him that.

"Go then. Fulfil your destiny. Take the Scroll to the Time-Wound. Do not delay. Alduin will be coming. He cannot miss the signs." Paarthurnax urged.

"What!?" Onmund blurted.

"Sit, Fahdon." Paarthurnax commanded, and Onmund obeyed promptly.

M'rassi tucked the Scroll under her arm, unclipped her winter cloak and slowly walked to the mind-bending vortex near the broken Word Wall. She felt it when she crossed the threshold, an odd tingling on her whiskers. The wavering air was even stronger in here.

She held up the case when she reached the center and took a deep breath. It was now or never. She pulled open the scroll.

She saw a flash of strange glyphs on top of star charts on top of even more odd writing before pain tore into her mind, and the Scroll dropped from her fingers. The writing didn't vanish, burned into her eyes and mind, growing brighter and brighter until she couldn't see anything but light.

For a split second of horrifying clarity, she saw the web of her prophesy. She saw herself at that moment, thin skeins of time radiating out from her, each and every one of them a possible path leading to, or from, this single instant. She could see a multitude of ways that she would have been pushed to this moment, and many more that would have pushed her away. She could see many paths leading off from this moment, ones where she triumphed, others where she failed, and all of them were equally possible. All of them were true and all of them were false, and M'rassi could only tell one thing for certain. That when the time came, she would have to leave Onmund behind. The end of the path was for her alone. She should watch for that moment, and when it came, she should not hesitate. As soon she understood that simple fact, a wave of pain ripped through her skull and her vision blurred, and blinding white light bored through her soul.

She felt like she was falling.

She saw a wheel and as she watched, it slowly turned on it's side, becoming like an 'I', or a tower. She saw flashes of her memory fly by. She saw her wedding three days before. She saw the black dragon wake Sahloknir and the first time she met Onmund. She saw Mirmulnir and Jarl Balgruuf and Hadvar. She saw Helgen and Pale Pass. There was a flash of orange light as her memory of the fire in Riverhold surfaced, and was gone.

She saw memories that were not her own. The murder of High King Torygg by Ulfric Stormcloak. She saw the signing of the White-Gold Concordat and the sack of the Imperial City. She saw the slaughter of the Blades by Thalmor agents.

She saw a flash of a great golden dragon turning to stone. She saw a great metal man under a mountain, its heart being struck with a hammer wielded by a shadowy figure. She saw many kingdoms become one and one kingdom become many in the blink of an eye. She saw a staff broken into eight pieces. Events that happened many generations before her own birth.

Time whirled by faster and faster and events became a blur. She saw the fall and rise of the Septim dynasty, the Akaviri Potentates, the Reman Cyrodiil dynasty. She saw the slave rebellion against the Ayleids and the rise of the First Empire of Men by the union of Saint Alessia's armies and the heirs of Ysgramor and his five-hundred Companions.

And still time flew by. Thousands of years passed in mere moments, and yet it felt like an eternity too. She slowed and she no longer felt like she was tumbling.

She found herself on top of the Throat of the World, looking at it through a red haze. The glyphs of the Scroll were still burned into her mind casting a mask across her vision.

The Throat of the World had not changed much in the six thousand years since the Dragon War. Some of the crags were different and the Word Wall was whole. Everywhere there were fires burning, sending black plumes into the red sky, and there were several dead dragons littering the mountainside. She tried to move, but found she couldn't, only able to move her head. She could barely speak more than a whisper, and even that was difficult.

"Gormlaith! We're running out of time! The battle... " A man ran up the path where she would walk herself in a few thousand years time.

A dragon swooped overhead, landing heavily on the mountainside.

"Daar sul thur se Alduin vokrii. Today Alduin's lordship will be restored."

The dragon taunted the man, who had drawn a great battle axe.

"But I honour your courage. Krif voth ahkrin. Die now, in vain." The dragon rumbled.

"For Skyrim!" The man charged.

He wasn't speaking Tamrielic but M'rassi found she could understand him. Perhaps it was the Scroll's doing.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" The dragon Shouted a gout of flame and the warrior dodged aside, slashing at the dragon with the two-handed axe.

The blow connected squarely with the dragons snout and it recoiled with a roar, cutting short its Shout. The dragon lunged and snapped at the man with its fangs, only to receive another cut. The dragon tried again, but the man dived out of the way and a woman charged in.

The dragon reared its head to strike and the woman watched, face twisted in a snarl. When the dragon lunged at her she delivered a savage cut across the dragon's open maw, half severing the tongue. Blood poured from its mouth.

"Know that Gormlaith sent you to your death!" The woman, Gormlaith, taunted as she ran at the dragon. She climbed onto its head in very much the same way as M'rassi did with Mirmulnir but with a lot more grace and ferocity. She smashed the pommel into the dragon's eye once, twice, each time the dragon giving a savage snarl. With a blow almost too fast for M'rassi to see, Gormlaith stabbed her sword through the side of the dragons head and out the other side.

The dragon collapsed spilling blood onto the no longer pristine snow. Gormlaith jumped off and pulled her companion off the ground.

"Hakon! A glorious day, is it not!" She said boastfully.

"Have you no thought beyond the blooding of your blade?" The axe-man, Hakon, answered.

"What else is there?" Gormlaith laughed.

"The battle goes ill. If Alduin does not rise to our challenge, I fear all may be lost." Hakon walked to the Word Wall, surveying the battle raging below.

"You worry too much, Brother. Victory will be ours." Gormlaith encouraged.

"Why does Alduin hang back? We've staked everything on this plan of yours, old man." Hakon turned to an older man waiting just up the slope.

"He will come. He cannot ignore our defiance. And why should he fear us, even now?" The old man said. M'rassi guessed he was Felldir, the last of the trio Paarthurnax had told her of.

Hakon had turned back to the battle, keeping an eye on the dragons soaring through the sky.

"We've bloodied him well. Four of his kin have fallen to my blade alone this day." Gormlaith said confidently.

"But none have yet stood against Alduin himself. Galthor, Sorri, Birkir... " Felldir said sadly.

"They did not have Dragonrend. Once we bring him down, I promise I will have his head." Gormlaith shot back.

"You do not understand. Alduin cannot be slain like a lesser dragon. He is beyond our strength. Which is why I brought the Elder Scroll." Felldir pulled the familiar mithril and ivory tube from his robes.

That got Hakon's attention.

"Felldir!" He whirled around. "We agreed not to use it!"

"I never agreed," Felldir retorted. "And if you are right, I will not need it."

"No!" Hakon spat. "We will deal with Alduin ourselves, here and now."

"We will see soon enough! Alduin approaches!" Gormlaith interceded.

"So be it." Hakon said tiredly.

The three of them drew their weapons as a black shape drew near. It was the black dragon from Helgen and Kynesgrove. That big black dragon was Alduin! Oh gods, Alduin! The World-Eater himself set her on this path!

Alduin landed on the Word Wall, kicking up the snow with his wings. He turned his gaze on the three armed warriors before him.

"Meyye. Tahrodiis aanne! Him hinde pah liiv! Zu'u hin daan!" He taunted.

"Let those that watch from Sovngarde envy us this day!" Gormlaith cried as Alduin gave a great Shout.

The clouds in the sky started whirling and raining flaming rocks down. M'rassi ducked instinctively, but the rocks could not harm her in her ethereal form.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" The three companions Shouted at Alduin.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as M'rassi listened to the words. Joor, Mortal. Zah, Finite. Frul, Temporary. She could see what the heroes were trying to achieve with the Shout. For an immortal being like Alduin, the very concept of Mortality must be terrifying. The absolute despair caused by the idea would be enough to force any dragon to land, for a time at least. Testing the words, she muttered the Shout, feeling the Thu'um form in her breath. She had it. She knew Dragonrend!

It look both hours and an instant to learn the Shout, then time gave a skip and M'rassi returned to the hero's battlefield as the Shout slammed into Alduin when he launched himself from the Word Wall.

The combined Thu'um of the three warriors made Alduin give a terrible howl of anguish, his black scales glowing a deep violet. He swooped around the top of the mountain and tumbled from the sky. He slammed into the Word Wall, tearing away a good third of it and slid to a stop, digging a great furrow in the snow. The warriors staggered as the ground shook from Alduin's massive bulk.

"Nivahriin joorre! What have you done?" Alduin howled, his voice full of pain. "What twisted Words have you created?! Tahrodiis Paarthurnax! My teeth to his neck!" He roared. "But first... dir ko maar. You will die in terror, knowing your final fate... To feed my power when I come for you in Sovngarde!"

"If I die today it will not be in terror!" Gormlaith bellowed, charging at Alduin and slashing at him with her sword.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" Felldir Shouted, his icy Thu'um rushing over Alduin before he charged too.

"You feel fear for the first time, worm. I see it in your eyes. Skyrim will be free!" Gormlaith shouted, catching Alduin with her sword across his snout.

Alduin gave a snarl as Felldir and Hakon tore great ragged gashes in his wings. Blood poured from the delicate tissue. He lunged forward, faster than any dragon M'rassi had ever seen, catching Gormlaith in his mighty jaws. With a savage shake he tore her in two, her legs and hips flying over the broken Wall and down the mountain. He tossed her ragged torso, trailing intestines, at the remaining men. It slammed into Hakon, who looked down in horror at the ruined flesh that had been his shield-sister.

"No, damn you!" He shrieked, renewing his frenzied attack.

Alduin whirled around to Shout a stream of fire at Hakon, the mortal jumping out of the way in the nick of time.

"It's no use! Use the Scroll, Felldir! Now!" Hakon yelled as he rolled away from Alduin's teeth.

Felldir dropped his sword and held up the Scroll.

"Hold, Alduin on the Wing! Sister Hawk, grant us your sacred breath to make this contract heard!" He pulled open the Scroll. "Begone, World-Eater! By words with bones older than your own we break your perch on this age and send you out!" Alduin twisted his great head to sneer at him.

"You are banished!" Felldir shouted forcefully. "Alduin, we Shout you out from all our endings unto the last."

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" Alduin Shouted at Felldir, but the flames seemed to go around the old man, protected by the Elder Scroll.

"Faal Kel...?! Nikriine... " Alduin growled as he was bathed in a green light.

Felldir kept repeating the contract and the green light grew stronger flaring into a ball. A moment later the light receded, taking Alduin away with a crack of thunder, louder than anything M'rassi had ever heard.

"You are banished!" Felldir cried with finality.

Alduin the World-Eater was gone.

"It worked... you did it... " Hakon pushed himself from the ground, clutching his stomach, where Alduin had torn the armour clean away, claws gouging the soft flesh.

"Yes, the World-Eater is gone... may the spirits have mercy on our souls." Felldir weaved a healing spell.

M'rassi felt the ground shaking. Except it wasn't the ground, it was Time itself shuddering as the remaining heroes faded from view and she felt herself falling through time once again, the image of the Scroll still burned into her vision.

# # # # # # # # #

Onmund watched as M'rassi bravely stepped into the Time-Wound. From his point of view it seemed as though as soon as she opened the Scroll, a great thunderclap could be heard and she collapsed.

In an instant he rushed forward and cradled her shoulders. She seemed dazed, but otherwise unhurt, though she kept muttering under her breath.

"Joor-Zah-Frul. The secret Tower within the Tower is the name of the godhead, for the Wheel of the World turned on it's side is an 'I'. Joor-Zah-Frul. Joor-Zah-Frul."

"Are you okay, love?" He held her close as she seemed to whisper nonsense, and she was trembling like a leaf. For a moment he feared she'd gone mad, like Septimus Signus.

"I... I saw... I saw so many things... " She whispered, her words much more lucid.

"You can write it all down later." He said softly, planting a kiss on the top of her head as she clutched it in pain, trying to remember everything she said.

"Joor-Zah-Frul. Dragonrend... is... Joor-Zah-Frul." M'rassi said to Onmund, as they rose to their knees.

They heard Paarthurnax roar a challenge and they twisted around to find the great black dragon swoop down from the sky toward them.

"He's Alduin!" M'rassi growled to her husband. "That big black bastard is Alduin!" She wasn't afraid this time. She knew exactly who he was and that knowledge gave her the strength to face him.

"The World-Eater... " Onmund glared at Alduin, his hands clutching M'rassi's shoulders tightly, showing his fear.

"Bahloki nahkip sillesejoor. My belly is full with the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin. Die now and await your fate in Sovngarde." He taunted, and he swooped wide around the broken Wall.

"Lost funt. You are too late, Alduin! Dovahkiin, use Dragonrend if you know it!" Paarthurnax launched himself into the air.

Alduin dived low and flew up the mountain path.

"Yol!"

M'rassi shoved Onmund out of the way and dived into the hollow of the curved wall.

"Toor-Shul!" Alduin Shouted a column of fire across the Throat of the World.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" M'rassi Shouted at his receding form, but missed, her Thu'um poorly aimed.

Onmund was up on his feet again, slinging bolts of lightning at the dragon.

With a snarl M'rassi dashed out onto the flat space.

"Come for me then, Alduin!" She bellowed to the heavens.

Alduin swooped around and met Paarthurnax mid-air, the two of them clashing with a great flurry of claws and wings. He was too high for M'rassi to reach with either her Shouts or her magic. So she waited, ears back, teeth bared and tail lashing.

"Unslaad hokoron! Never again!" With a great snarl Paarthurnax kicked Alduin down, following with a gout of flame. Alduin twisted around and caught the air with his wings sweeping across the flat where M'rassi waited.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" She Shouted just as Alduin passed overhead.

The mighty black dragon roared in anguish as M'rassi's Thu'um forced the idea of mortality into his mind. He swung around and spiralled downwards, slamming his mighty talons into the snow, his scales glowing a sick violet-indigo.

"Maar saraan ko Sovngarde." Alduin growled, snow whirling around his head. "Ruth wah nivahriin joor!"

M'rassi shot great bolts of lightning from both hands, weaving the spells together to make them more powerful. She could hear Onmund slinging his own spells, the scent of the Nord's magic permeating the air.

Alduin twisted his head and snapped at her. She tried to jump out of the way but the massive dragon caught the end of her tail, and with a violent wrench he flung her over his back. She crashed into the snow, her tail throbbing madly, and she felt a hand roughly pull her to her feet.

Paarthurnax roared in defiance above and Alduin pulled himself around to face M'rassi.

"You may have picked up the weapons of my ancient foes, but you are not their equal!" He rumbled menacingly as the glow of Dragonrend wore off and he remembered his immortality.

Paarthurnax landed with a heavy thump beside the ruined wall.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" He Shouted as Alduin took flight once again, his fiery breath missing the larger dragon by a few feet.

Alduin gave a mighty Shout at the top of his jump, the words indecipherable, and he caught the wind with his wings and swooped around the mountaintop. Paarthurnax gave chase, plunging off the mountain with a savage snarl. Alduin's Shout made the falling snow vanish, replaced by the terrifyingly familiar whirl of red clouds.

"What in Oblivion...?" Onmund gaped.

"Whatever you do, by the Nine, keep moving!" M'rassi yelled at him as the first of the flaming rocks came down, smashing another piece of the Word Wall away.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" Alduin Shouted icy air at Paarthurnax who twisted out of the way, raking Alduin with his talons.

Alduin roared viciously, pulling around the Wall as Paarthurnax corrected himself.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" Paarthurnax's Thu'um washed over Alduin as the rain of fiery rocks grew greater.

M'rassi was running this way and that to avoid the falling stones, keeping an eye on Alduin, and when he made a low pass to Shout fire down on them she Shouted again.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!"

Alduin's scales glowed once again and he gave another anguished roar and he landed hard on the mountain.

"Dovahkiin, you call yourself? Arrogant mortal! Yol-Toor-Shul!" He Shouted at the mortals striving to avoid his maelstrom.

Paarthurnax slammed into him, cutting off his fire, the two of them rolling over the edge and down the mountain. Alduin caught a rocky crag with his wing-claws and hauled himself back onto the ledge. Paarthurnax followed soon after, snapping shut his jaws on Alduin's tail.

"Now Dovahkiin! While he is grounded!" Paarthurnax growled through his clenched teeth.

"I'll gladly kill you myself!" M'rassi heard Onmund yell from the other side of Alduin.

M'rassi shot bolt after bolt of electricity at the mighty black dragon, each time her magic struck Alduin growled. With a brutal shake of his entire body, Alduin flung Paarthurnax aside, using his tail for leverage. The sage-green dragon was hurled into the rocks higher up the mountain and Alduin took wing once more.

"Gods damn it!" M'rassi snarled, dodging another of the flaming rocks, which were still pelting down from the sky.

"Argh!" Onmund yelped as one smashed to the ground beside him, flecks of rock tearing up his clothes and exposed skin.

M'rassi took shelter under a rocky overhang while Alduin and Paarthurnax clashed once more, tearing and snapping at each other with bloody tooth and claw. She emerged when the rocks stopped tumbling and the snow began falling again.

Paarthurnax made a low pass over the mountain, drawing Alduin into M'rassi's path.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" She Shouted, bringing Alduin to bear again.

He landed on the side of the mountain summoning the pelting fiery rocks once again with a mighty Shout. The close proximity of Alduin and his Thu'um pushed both of the mortals back, reeling away from the World-Eater.

Keeping moving to avoid the falling rocks M'rassi bombarded Alduin with her lightning spells and when she ran out of magicka she began Shouting.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" She Shouted as Alduin snapped his fangs at Onmund, turning aside his massive head at the last second.

She was thrown to the snow by massive wings, as Paarthurnax landed right on top of her, narrowly missing her with his massive claws.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" Alduin bathed Paarthurnax with his blazing Thu'um, and Paarthurnax countered with his own Shout.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!"

M'rassi scrambled out from underneath Paarthurnax, breathing heavily, ears laid back, tail lashing. She had numerous nicks and cuts of varying severity, and her tail still hurt from when Alduin had tossed her like a ragdoll. She was covered in blood, not all of it her own. She watched the mighty dragons snap at each other with their fangs, drawing her dagger from her boot

"Tiid-Klo!" She Shouted, and time slowed to a crawl.

She ran into the fray, dodging Paarthurnax's fangs and Alduin's flame, to slash at the black dragon with her dagger. She saw Onmund slowly draw his bow, and the arrow gradually flew at her. She easily ducked, thanks to her Thu'um's effects. She launched herself backward as the arrow struck Alduin, retreating with a cuss as time sped up again.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" She Shouted right in Alduin's face.

Alduin roared in pain and reared back. His head hung low and he was breathing heavily. Blood poured from many wounds and he had several arrows sticking out of his mighty neck.

"Meyz mul, Dovahkiin. You have become strong." He growled at M'rassi, who stood defiantly between him and Paarthurnax.

"I am not afraid of you any more." She snarled resolutely.

"But I am Al-Du-In," The black dragon roared in her face. "Firstborn of Akatosh! Mulaagi zok lot! I cannot be slain here, by you or anyone else!"

M'rassi held her ground as the flaming rocks stopped falling and the snow returned.

"You cannot prevail against me." Alduin growled at her. "I will outlast you... mortal!"

And with that, he pushed of with a great flap of his wings and sailed off to the east, soon disappearing into the snow-laden clouds.

As soon as he vanished, M'rassi breathed loudly and she realised she'd been holding her breath while Alduin spoke. She dropped her hands to her knees and laughed. She had faced Alduin in battle, and yet lived to tell the tale. The very joy of being alive was exquisite. She laughed and laughed, she couldn't stop. She heard Onmund and Paarthurnax join in behind her, the latter climbing onto his perch on the Wall.

She kept laughing until tears ran down her face and she ran out of breath, and she stood panting as Onmund came up beside her, chuckling. Still hunched over, she offered him her fist, which he bumped back, before hauling her upright. She giggled quietly, her laughter fading, leaning heavily on his side, and they walked over to the Wall where Paarthurnax waited.

"Lot krongrah. You truly have the voice of a dovah. Alduin's allies will think twice after this victory." Paarthurnax crowed.

He was in pretty bad shape, worse than Alduin was when he ran away. Speaking of which, where had the World-Eater fled to?

"Victory? Sure, we're alive, but Alduin escaped." M'rassi told him.

"Ni liivrah him moro. True, this is not the final krongrah - victory. But not even the heroes of old were able to defeat Alduin in open battle. Alduin always was pahlok - arrogant in his power. Uznahgar paar. He took domination as his birthright. This should shake the loyalty of the dov who serve him."

M'rassi had to admit, Paarthurnax had a point. This minor defeat could give Alduin a massive headache in the future.

"We need to find out where he went."

"Yes... one of his allies could tell us. Motmahus... But it will not be so easy to... convince one of them to betray him. Perhaps the hofkahsejun - the palace in Whiterun... Dragonsreach. It was originally built to house a captive dovah. A fine place to trap one of Alduin's allies, hmm?" Paarthurnax rumbled.

"The Jarl might not think so." M'rassi said, thinking of what Jarl Balgruuf's reaction might be.

"Hmm, yes. But your su'um is strong. I do not doubt you can convince him of the need."

"Was Dragonsreach really built to house a dragon? I thought that was just a story!" Onmund asked, his face covered with blood and sweat.

"Yes, this was ages ago, you understand. There were more of us then. Before the bruniikke - the Akaviri - came and killed all my zeymah. I used to visit him from time to time. Nearly crazed by loneliness and captivity. Tiiraz sivaas. He did not even remember his own name. I do not know how he came to be caught. But the bronjun... the Jarl... was very proud of his pet. Paak!" Paarthurnax spat the last word. "The hofkahsejun has been known as Dragonsreach ever since."

M'rassi felt sorry for the long dead dragon.

"Master Paarthurnax, before we leave, we would tend to your wounds." M'rassi bowed her head.

"Ah, yes. I had forgotten what true grah is. And also you are both kro - sorcerers. It has been long since I have felt the touch of Aetherius. But first, tend to your own wounds, Dovahkiin. I can wait."

M'rassi looked down at her blood-stained robes. She hurt all over. She had many cuts and bruises and her fur was caked in dried blood and dirt. Her tail hurt, the muscles at the root had been wrenched.

"Here, let me..." Onmund brought up his hands to cup her face and M'rassi saw he was missing the pinkie of his right hand.

"Onmund, your hand!" M'rassi grabbed it, and the Nord hissed.

He'd not even noticed his finger missing. But when he concentrated on it, his hand twitched. Magic couldn't fix this, it was gone. He gave a sigh and noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

"M'rassi, your tail!" He said.

She flicked it up and saw the last foot or so was missing, bitten off by Alduin.

"I was wondering why that still hurt."

"Well, we're more or less in one piece." Onmund smiled, cupping M'rassi's face in his hands once more.

She too reached up to hold his and they pressed their foreheads together. Flaring and twining their magicka together, they weaved the healing spells, closing all their wounds at once. As the golden threads of the spell washed over their skin and fur, the tip of M'rassi's tail and the nub of Onmund's missing finger melted and healed, thought the injuries would be tender for a long time yet.

When they were done with each other, they turned their attention to Paarthurnax, whose wounds were much more extensive than they had realised. Many of his scales had been torn off and his wings were badly tattered. Several more of the spines lining his chin and jaw were broken off and a couple of his teeth were missing.

"Hmm, aaz unslaad. Your... compassion does you credit, Dovahkiin. You too, Fahdon." Paarthurnax rumbled as their combined magic washed over him, mending wounded flesh and burnt scales.

"Thank you." Paarthurnax said when they finished, ruffling his wings.

M'rassi hunted for her dagger and found it laying in the blood-soaked snow. She cleaned it off on one of the few places where her robes were not already stained. She found the Elder Scroll still lying in the Time-Wound, miraculously unharmed, though she suspected it would take more than their fight with Alduin to destroy such a thing. They even found one of Paarthurnax's teeth, as long as Onmund's forearm. The old dragon laughed when they asked if he wanted it back, telling them to keep it for luck.

Finally they bid Paarthurnax farewell.

"Su'um ahrk morah." He told them and they turned to leave.

"You think Lydia will be back from Riften by now?"

"She should be."

"Good. I could use a bath and a clean set of clothes." M'rassi smiled at her husband.

"Sounds wonderful... "Onmund said wistfully.


	17. Season Unending

**Chapter Seventeen: Season Unending.**

They decided to stop overnight at High Hrothgar, it would take them several days to get to Whiterun from here and the snow was getting heavier. After bathing, they helped themselves to some food from the kitchen and retired to the library, where they each studied their missing pieces in silence.

Onmund studied the stump that used to be his finger. It wasn't unusual for folks in Skyrim to have eyes, fingers or limbs missing. It wouldn't make any difference to his magical abilities, but it would make holding his arrows more difficult until he learned to compensate. He was just lucky that Alduin didn't take the whole arm off, or worse, swallow him whole. At the very least, he could spin a good yarn to the other apprentices when they went back to the College, and have the stump as evidence.

M'rassi examined the tip of her tail as if the whole thing might suddenly fall off. There was a small nub of grey skin that, no matter how she tried to manipulate with magic, outright refused to grow back any fur. She was annoyed about that, being a bit vain, and her tail was noticeably shorter. Her balance was a bit off, gods knew how men and mer got along without the appendage. She didn't know how long it would take to get used to it. Deep down though, she was a little proud of it. She'd faced Alduin in battle, and by claiming a piece of her tail he'd marked her as an equal, in the khajiiti scheme of things.

"Dragonborn, what happened?" Master Arngeir spoke from the doorway, breaking the silence.

M'rassi swivelled an ear towards him but didn't move her head.

"Alduin." She said simply.

"Alduin... we heard the Dragonrend Shout from here... you defeated him?"

"Yes and no. Onmund, Paarthurnax and I did battle with him on the mountaintop, but he escaped." She watched as Arngeir walked over to the fireplace to gaze at the flames.

"I feared as much. I thought it was him we saw flying east after your battle."

"Any ideas where he actually went?"

"The old tales say that he can travel into Sovngarde to devour the souls of the dead. You must find out how he does this, before he regains his strength and returns." Arngeir sounded very tired.

M'rassi was very quiet. It had not occurred to her that Sovngarde might actually exist, or that Alduin could physically go there. Mostly she was just tired. She dragged her chair across the stone floor next to Onmund and she collapsed into it, while the Nord watched her with amusement. She could have wandered off into one of the visitors dormitories, but she was more at home in the library. Besides, the chairs were very comfortable. She threaded her fingers into his and was soon fast asleep.

##########

They climbed up to Dragonsreach three days later, having bathed the night before and changed into something a bit more respectable than their travel stained robes. They pushed open the doors and M'rassi heard Onmund gasp. Though he'd been to Whiterun many times with M'rassi, he'd never been to Dragonsreach.

"You! What do you want cat? Come to show your teeth at me again?" Said a young boy, the same one from months ago, when she returned with the Dragonstone from Bleak Falls Barrow.

"Rargh!" She snarled menacingly at him, and he bolted. She straightened up with a cheeky grin on her face, ears twitching with delight.

"Did you seriously just growl at the Jarl's son?" Onmund asked in disbelief.

"Yep." She smiled, practically strutting up to the dais where the Jarl sat.

Balgruuf regarded her with amusement written all over his face.

"Do that again, my Thane, and I might have to replace Avenicci with you!" Balgruuf laughed. "He has trouble intimidating the inmates!"

Proventus looked indignant, folding his arms. Nearby, Irileth's red eyes sparkled in delight.

"I would pay good coin to see her do it again!" The Jarl's brother, Hrongar added.

"I can go find him, if you'd like?" M'rassi jerked her thumb in the direction the boy had fled, and they all chuckled.

Onmund just looked stunned at the familiar tone she was taking with the Jarl.

"Now, I'm sure you didn't come here to terrorize my children, Thane. What is it that you need?" Balgruuf smiled.

"I have a favour to ask, my Jarl. You aren't going to like it."

"Oh?" He leaned forward.

"I need your help. I need to trap a dragon in your palace."

Jarl Balgruuf looked at her incredulously. He gave a soft laugh, making a show of cleaning out his ear with a fingernail.

"I... I must have misheard you. I thought you asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace." He looked at her as if she'd gone mad.

"I said you weren't going to like it. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Jarl Balgruuf sat back with a sigh.

"Of course. You already saved Whiterun from that dragon months ago. I owe you a great deal," His brow furrowed in confusion. "But I don't understand. Why let a dragon into the heart of my city when we've been working so hard to keep them out?" He raised his voice, clearly the khajiit was insane.

M'rassi laid her ears back and narrowed her eyes. "The threat is even worse than you know. Alduin has returned."

"Alduin?" Balgruuf blurted, sitting forward again, his eyes fixed on M'rassi. "The World-Eater himself? But... how can we fight him? Doesn't his return mean it's the end times?" He sounded frightened.

"That may be so. But I plan to go down fighting, don't you?"

"Ha! Are you sure you aren't a Nord beneath all that fur!" Balgruuf grinned a winning smile. "I'll stand beside you, Dragonborn. Now what's with this nonsense about trapping a dragon in my palace?"

"Alduin has fled to Sovngarde. It's the only way to find him before it's too late."

Balgruuf clasped his hands together, resting his chin on them, elbows on his knees. He was all business.

"I want to help you, Dragonborn. And I will. But I need your help first." He narrowed his green eyes. "Ulfric and General Tullius are both just waiting for me to make a wrong move. Do you think they will sit idle while a dragon is slaughtering my people and burning my city? No." He said shortly. "I can't risk weakening my city while we are under the threat of an attack. I'm sorry."

"I understand, my Jarl." M'rassi sighed. She'd known she couldn't avoid the Civil War forever. She and Onmund had run into groups of the opposing sides in the wilds, though they were largely left alone, since Arch-Mage Aren had provided them with a Writ of Travel. The document proclaimed the bearers to be College mages, free to travel the province on official College business. Rumour had it that the war had ramped up in recent months, no doubt because of Ulfric's escape. However, the dragons were the bigger threat. Of this, she had no doubt.

"What if you didn't have to worry about an enemy attack?" Onmund spoke up. All eyes were suddenly fixed on him and he flushed. Talking to Paarthurnax was easy compared to the entire court of Whiterun Hold.

"Onmund's right. What if we could get them to agree to a truce." M'rassi said curling her tail around her husband's knee.

"Then I would be glad to help you with your mad dragon-trapping scheme." He smiled at her. "But getting both sides to agree to a truce will be difficult at this point. The bitterness has gone too deep." He sat back and sighed, running a hand down his face and tugging lightly on his beard. "Maybe... Hmm... what of the Greybeards? They are respected by all Nords. High Hrothgar is neutral territory. If the Greybeards were willing to hold a peace council..." Balgruuf glanced at Onmund, the younger Nord shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously. "Then maybe Ulfric and Tullius would have to listen."

"Leave that to me." M'rassi said confidently. "I'll talk to Master Arngeir and see if I can arrange for them to host this peace council."

"Aye, Dragonborn. Maybe you can stop the dragons - and this war into the bargain." Balgruuf said tiredly.

He dismissed her with a lazy flick of his fingers and M'rassi waved a hand for Onmund to follow.

"Dragonborn, a minute, please?" Farengar called softly.

"Of course."

He motioned them into his study, which had even more books strewn about. He started shuffling papers on his desk, scattering soul gems and knocking over bottles of potions, which were thankfully corked.

"What did you need, Farengar?" M'rassi asked, flicking her tail in amusement.

"Oh, right." The court-wizard looked up, as if he hadn't realised they were there. "I, ah, wanted to congratulate you on your marriage. My apologies that I couldn't be there, thanks to this damnable conflict."

"There's nothing to apologise for, and thank you."

"I'm Farengar Secret-Fire, Jarl Balgruuf's court-wizard." He offered his hand to Onmund.

"Onmund Hid... Nine-Fingers now, I suppose. Apprentice of the College of Winterhold." Onmund shook, wincing a bit when Farengar touched the still-tender nub of his missing finger.

"Anyway, I overheard your request of the Jarl, well, when I say overheard, I really mean eavesdropped. If there's any way I can help?"

M'rassi thought for a minute. "Hmm... Yes... Can you see what you can find out about how Olaf One-Eye trapped the dragon here? More specifically the trap itself."

"Of course. But are you really sure you can get Ulfric and Tullius to see sense?"

"I can try. If not, then I'll Shout the pair of them off High Hrothgar."

Farengar looked shocked and it took a snigger from the younger Nord to see that the Khajiit was joking. Farengar didn't share his Jarl's easy sense of humour.

"Speaking of High Hrothgar, we really must be going."

"Of course, Dragonborn. In the meantime I'll see what I can do."

Outside it was raining, casting Whiterun in a grey pall that seemed to leech the exuberance out of the city. On the bright side, it meant the weather was starting to get warmer and in a few scant weeks spring would arrive. M'rassi was thankful for this, she'd been growing weary of the endless snow and ice.

"It's a good idea, you know." M'rassi said to Onmund as they made their way to their home.

"The peace council? The way everyone looked at me when I spoke up, I was worried they all thought I was as mad as you." He gave her a wink.

She swatted him across the backside with her tail, shooting him a cheeky grin. "You were mad enough to marry me!" She laughed.

"Well, someone has to be the voice of sanity in our little family!" He chortled.

"You keep telling yourself that," M'rassi snorted. "Come on, if we grab our gear now, we can make High Hrothgar by tomorrow night."

#########

Master Arngeir was in the dining hall, picking at a hunk of bread and his nose in a book. He looked troubled.

"Master Arngeir?" M'rassi asked softly.

"Yes, Dragonborn? Have you found out how Alduin gets into Sovngarde?"

"Not yet. We need your help to trap a dragon."

Arngeir sighed. "We are not warriors. What is overlooked in the Dragonborn is not permitted to any other followers of the Way of the Voice."

"No, no, no." M'rassi waved her hands. "We'll catch the dragon, but I need your help to stop the war before I can do so."

"You misunderstand our authority." Arngeir frowned. "The Greybeards never involve themselves in political affairs."

"We need Jarl Balgruuf to help us catch a dragon so we can learn how Alduin gets into Sovngarde." Onmund explained.

"But he won't help us while this confounded war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks rages." M'rassi finished.

"I see. The dragon will lead you to Alduin, but without the Jarl's help... "

"Both sides respect the Greybeards. They will listen." Onmund told him, he'd followed the happenings of the war more than M'rassi, being a native of Skyrim. He leaned towards the Empire, mostly because what Jarl Ulfric did to High King Torygg was reprehensible. He didn't really want someone like that ruling Skyrim.

"Paarthurnax has made the decision to help you. This is the road we have to walk. Even the Greybeards must bend to the winds of change, it seems. So be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards wish to speak with them. We will see if they still remember us."

"Thank you, Master Arngeir."

###########

Castle Dour in Solitude was a mismatched conglomeration of buildings bound by thick heavy walls. In ages past, it had been the seat of the High Kings of Skyrim, but after the founding of the Septim dynasty it had been used as an outpost for the Imperial Legion. The old throne room remained, but was generally only used by the Emperor on those rare occasions he visited Skyrim, the High King being relegated to the Blue Palace at the far end of the sea-arch.

There were soldiers training in the courtyard, practicing their sword-fighting and archery under the watchful gaze of several sergeants, unmindful of the light snowfall. Several Imperial Legion banners were hanging, needle-thin icicles adorning the lower edge. The black-dragon-on-a-red-field looked almost dejected with its frosting of snow.

A sullen faced Argonian soldier with a Cyrodiilic accent directed them to the command building where General Tullius and Legate Rikke could be found. M'rassi and Onmund hurried into the warm space, feeling sorry for the poor man stationed outside. Argonians fared even worse in cold weather than khajiit did.

Inside they found General Tullius in his leather and gold armour discussing battle tactics with a stern faced Nord woman in polished steel armour. She must be Legate Rikke. They hung back, waiting for them to finish speaking.

"I'm telling you, Ulfric's planning an attack on Whiterun." Rikke was saying, jabbing a finger at the little red flag indicating the city on a rolled out cloth map.

"He'd be insane to try. He doesn't have the men." Tullius shot back.

"That's not what my scouts report, sir. Every day, more join his cause. Riften, Dawnstar and Winterhold support him." Rikke countered.

M'rassi hadn't realised Winterhold sat with the Stormcloaks, but then, the College distanced itself from politics, and she'd never had any dealings with the Jarl.

"It's not a cause. It's a rebellion."

"Call it whatever you like, General. The man's going to try to take Whiterun."

"Jarl Balgruuf... "

"Balgruuf refuses the Legion's right to garrison troops in the city. On the other hand, he also refuses to acknowledge Ulfric's claim."

"Well, if he wants to stand outside the protection of the Empire, fine. Let Ulfric pillage his city." Tullius pushed himself back from the table, folding his arms crossly.

"General-" Rikke started.

"You people and your damn Jarls." Tullius cut her off.

"Sir?" Rikke copied his motion, her face defiant. "You can't force a Nord to accept help he hasn't asked for."

"If Ulfric's making a move for Whiterun, then we need to be there to stop him." Tullius sighed, calming himself. "Draft another letter with the usual platitudes, but this time share some of your intelligence regarding Ulfric's plans. Embellish if you have to. We'll let it seem like it's his idea."

"Yes, sir." Rikke nodded.

"You Nords and your bloody sense of honour." Tullius shook his head.

"Sir." Legate Rikke saluted, left fist across her chest, head bowed.

"We will oust Ulfric from Windhelm soon enough. And when we do, I'll have his head on a plate." Tullius looked up and spotted M'rassi and Onmund standing in the doorway, troubled looks on their faces. "Are my men now giving free reign to anyone who wanders into the castle? Do you have some reason to be here, citizens?"

"I was at Helgen, sir." M'rassi stepped forward, into the light.

"Right... Helgen... " Tullius narrowed his eyes, studying her. "One of the prisoners if I recall correctly."

"I helped Hadvar escape. He said he'd vouch for me."

"You were the one he was talking about? He told me about you, but Hadvar hasn't been here for months, stationed somewhere out in The Rift. I'm sure your imprisonment was all a terrible misunderstanding. We could have some use for someone resourceful like you. Not many survived Helgen. Speak to Legate Rikke if you're looking to join the Legion."

"That's not what I'm here for, General Tullius."

"Oh? Then, why are you here, Citizen?"

"I'm M'rassi Dragonborn. I come with a message from the Greybeards."

"The Greybeards? What do those old hermits want with me?" Tullius looked genuinely surprised.

"They're convening a peace council up at High Hrothgar." Onmund said, stepping into the light beside his wife, folding his arms.

"Why? There's nothing to discuss as long as that traitor Ulfric is in arms against his rightful Emperor."

"We need a truce until the dragon menace is dealt with." M'rassi told him.

Tullius leaned back on the table letting out a deep breath.

"They are getting to be a problem. But I wasn't sent to Skyrim to fight dragons. My job is to quell this rebellion, and I intend to do just that, dragons or no dragons." He looked up at her.

"The best time to negotiate is from a position of strength." Onmund said, remembering his grandfather's old war stories.

Tullius rubbed his face tiredly. "Fair enough. We're driving the Stormcloaks back well enough at the moment, but we're already over stretched. That's what comes of trying to win a war with a bare handful of legions. If the Emperor would just give me the reinforcements I requested!" He hissed the last word.

"Why won't the Emperor send more reinforcements?" Onmund asked, frowning.

"Most of the Legion is tied down on the border of the Aldmeri Dominion. The Emperor can't afford to risk Cyrodiil's defences." Tullius explained.

"The General's right. I had a hell of a time leaving Elsweyr. Legate Tacitus held me for two months while my paperwork was checked out. Not to mention the Thalmor detaining me on their side of the border for several weeks for the same reason. Each side is waiting to the other to make the first move. It's just a matter of time before someone does something stupid." M'rassi told her husband.

"From the Imperial City, our war here is just a sideshow. An interlude before the main event with the Thalmor resumes." Tullius added.

"Anyway, the dragons are the bigger threat right now." M'rassi said.

"You have a point." Tullius conceded. "It's getting difficult enough to even move troops around without attracting a dragon attack. By all accounts the Stormcloaks are suffering just as badly. Even Ulfric might see the sense of a truce under these conditions."

"So you'll come to the peace council, then?" M'rassi asked, her ears forward.

"Yes. Yes, fine, I'll come to this Greybeard council, for all the good it will do." Tullius replied, his voice cynical.

"Thank you, General." M'rassi said, giving him a khajiiti gesture of respect.

"Sir?" Rikke asked and Tullius waved them away, turning back to the map.

On their way out they gave the Argonian on duty a cup of warm tea, which he accepted gratefully.

"One down, one to go."

"Yep, though I think Ulfric might be a little harder to convince."

"I think you're right. Dragonborn or not, you're still khajiit, and Ulfric is not known for his love of foreigners."

"Oh, I'm sure that once he gets to know me we'll all go have a pint with the Emperor himself."

Onmund laughed loudly, drawing curious gazes from some of the locals. "Come on, lets go find the carriage driver. The sooner we get to Windhelm, the sooner we can get this over and done with."

#########

Windhelm, the capital of Eastmarch, was a bleak city situated on a hill north of the fork where the Yorgrim River met the White River. It was the closest city to the Dunmeth Pass, one of the old trade routes to Old Morrowind. Many Dark Elves and Argonians had fled the province after the eruption of Red Mountain in 4E122 seeking refuge in the city, but finding only suspicion and mistrust. The refugees were kept segregated from the rest of the nationalistic populace, and the tensions with the Civil War had not helped matters. It was a city on the edge of chaos.

Windhelm was considered to be one of the oldest cities in Skyrim, having been continuously inhabited since the early First Empire of Men. Probably even longer, if the architecture of the palace was anything to go by. M'rassi recognised the distinctive style of the Merethic Era Nords anywhere by now. The buildings were all made of stone and the unpaved streets were muddy and sleet-covered from the long winter months. Winter lasted longer in the northern reaches of the province, a fact that M'rassi detested but couldn't do anything about.

The Palace of Kings was so named because supposedly it had been built by Ysgramor, the first human ruler of Skyrim. M'rassi wasn't sure if it had always looked this shabby or if it was because Jarl Ulfric was too busy pouring his resources into his bloody rebellion rather than on the upkeep of his home city. The interior was much more tidy, with blue and cream banners emblazoned with a bear's head were hanging everywhere. There was a long table with food and empty mead bottles running the length of the hall to the opulent dais where Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak slouched on a throne made of stone and plush red velvet.

He looked almost exactly the same as when M'rassi had last seen him, back in Helgen, only cleaner. Without the gag she could see he had a short neatly-trimmed beard, something she'd not noticed in her crazed panic back in Helgen. Ulfric was speaking to an ox of a man wearing a cowl made from the head of a bear, the claws hanging down his barrel-like chest. This was Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric's right-hand man.

M'rassi sat on a trestle at the table, waiting for them to finish, ears back a bit and twitching her tail in agitation. Onmund sat down beside her, chewing his ample bottom lip and a frown on his face. He didn't want to be here any more than she did.

"Balgruuf won't give us a straight answer." Galmar growled, his voice was gravelly.

"He's a true Nord. He'll come around." Ulfric said lazily. His deep baritone was a perfect counterpoint to Tullius' unusually high voice.

"Don't be so sure of that. We've intercepted couriers from Solitude. The Empire's putting a great deal of pressure on Whiterun." Galmar pressed.

"And what would you have me do?" Ulfric shot back.

"If he's not with us, he's against us."

"He knows that, they all know that." The Jarl pushed himself from his throne, leading Galmar to a small room off the side of the main hall.

M'rassi followed them trying to make herself as inconspicuous as she could. As Jarl Balgruuf's Thane, it would be to her advantage to know exactly where the Stormcloaks stood regarding Whiterun.

"How long are you going to wait?" Galmar asked, folding his arms while Ulfric leaned over a map that almost matched Tullius' own.

"You think I need to send Balgruuf a stronger message?" He didn't look up.

"If by message you mean shoving a sword through his gullet."

"Taking his city and leaving him in disgrace would make a more powerful statement, don't you think?" Ulfric sneered.

"So we're ready to start this war in earnest then?"

"Soon." Ulfric flicked his fingers dismissively.

"I still say you should take them all out like you did Deadking Torygg." Galmar rumbled.

M'rassi's sensitive ears picked out Onmund's quiet gasp.

"Torygg was merely a message to the other Jarls. Whoever we replace him with will need the support of our armies."

"We're ready when you are." Galmar bowed respectfully.

"Things hinge on Whiterun. If we can take the city without bloodshed all the better. But if not..."

"The people are behind you." Galmar leaned over the map, looking his Jarl directly in the face.

"Many I fear still need convincing." Ulfric sighed.

"Then let them die with their false kings."

Jarl Ulfric walked over to a window, staring out into the blizzard masking the city outside.

"We've been soldiers a long time," He said quietly. "We know the price of freedom. The people are still weighing things in their hearts."

"What's left of Skyrim to wager?" Galmar growled, still leaning on the table.

"They have families to think of." Ulfric turned back to his friend.

"How many of their sons and daughters follow your banner? We _are_ their families!"

"Well put, friend." Ulfric started back out to the throne room, and M'rassi beat a hasty retreat. She didn't think he saw her. "Tell me, Galmar, why do you fight for me?"

"I'd follow you into the depths of Oblivion, you know that." Galmar replied as if the Jarl was silly to even ask.

"Yes, but why do you fight? If not for me, what then?"

"I'll die before elves dictate the fates of men. Are we not one on this?"

M'rassi had to agree with the bear-cloaked man there, even though she was not mannish. She'd lived totally under Thalmor rule until eighteen months ago, and it wasn't pretty.

Jarl Ulfric marched up to his throne but did not sit, a fiery look in his eye.

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil." He said emphatically. "I fight for their wives and children, who's names I heard whispered in their last breaths. I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves!" His voice took a tired tone. "I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing. I fight... because I must." He sat on the throne heavily, obviously weary.

"Your words give voice to what we all feel, Ulfric. And that's why you will be High King. But the day words are enough, will be the day when soldiers like us are no longer needed." Galmar told him.

"I would gladly retire from the world were such a day to dawn."

"Aye. But in the meantime, we have a war to plan." Galmar headed back into the war room.

"Galmar thinks we should double our men in the Reach." Ulfric said to a man in a simple faded red tunic emerging from another corridor opposite the war room.

"A reasonable strategy." He agreed.

"And you, Jorleif?"

"Well, sir, the hold of Falkreath is fairly vulnerable, and blocks the only road from Cyrodiil under Imperial control." Jorleif gave his opinion.

"A good point, old friend."

"To be sure my lord, I am not skilled in the arts of war or military tactics."

"But you're able to see the whole in the parts, and for that I'm grateful."

"As you wish, sir." Jorleif nodded. "Wait, who are you?" He asked, spotting M'rassi sitting at the dining table, quiet as a mouse.

Ulfric looked up, finally noticing the khajiit and her companion. She looked familiar. "I remember you... You were at Helgen with us! Come to join the war? Speak with Galmar, he handles the new recruits."

"Yes, I was at Helgen. But that is not why I am here." M'rassi said cautiously, getting up from her seat and approaching the man she once awaited execution with.

"I'm sorry to hear that. If you change your mind, speak to Galmar." He sat forward. "Now, what does bring you to me?"

"I am M'rassi Dragonborn. I have a message from the Greybeards."

"It's about time they turned their gaze from the heavens, back to our bleeding homeland. What do they want?"

"They wish to negotiate a truce until the dragon menace is dealt with." She replied.

"I have the greatest respect for the Greybeards, of course. And the dragon attacks are a growing plague. But the political situation is still delicate. Not all the Jarls are fully committed to seeing me as High King. I can't afford to appear weak. I can't agree to this unless Tullius himself will be there."

"Politics be damned!" It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Alduin has returned!" She hissed.

Ulfric looked shocked, and not just because of her outburst.

"Alduin?" He blurted. "The World-Eater of song and legend? If that's true... well, it changes the situation doesn't it? Even Tullius may be forced to talk sense in the face of such a threat."

"He's already agreed to come. Will you?"

"Yes. I'll give Tullius one more chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs."

M'rassi flicked her tail in contempt at the statement, thankfully Ulfric did not catch the motion.

"Thank you, Jarl Ulfric." She said carefully before marching out of the palace, Onmund in tow.

"Oh gods, I can't believe I just did that!" She slumped on the wall as soon as they were outside.

"I can't either. But it's done now. Did you want to overnight here, or make for Ivarstead?" Onmund asked, catching her hand.

"This place is too oppressive for my liking. If the carriage is still around, I'd like to make a break for Ivarstead."

#########

Arngeir and the other Greybeards were waiting in the main hall when M'rassi and Onmund walked in, brushing snow from their winter cloaks.

"So you've done it. The men of violence are gathered here, in these halls whose very stones are dedicated to peace." He said sternly.

Ulfric was already here? He must have overtaken them during the night.

"I should not have agreed to host this council. The Greybeards have no business involving ourselves in such matters."

"This was the only way to get Jarl Balgruuf's help." M'rassi said, frowning.

"Yes, yes. Which is why I allowed this... violation of all our traditions." He shuddered.

"I don't like to ask it of you either. But we must get them to agree on peace." M'rassi sighed.

"Peace? I doubt it. They may put down their weapons for a moment, but only to gather strength for the next bloodletting. They are not yet tired of war. Far from it. Do you know the ancient Nord word for war? 'Season unending'... so it has proved. But regrets are pointless. Here we are." Arngeir turned to Onmund. "I'm not so sure it is wise for you to be at this council."

"I value his input. He's given me much insight on the war." M'rassi said, curling her tail around Onmund's knee.

"Very well. I will permit it." Arngeir waved them in the direction of the dining hall.

M'rassi paused when she heard the metal doors open and shut. Tullius and Ulfric were already there, they were not expecting anyone else. Who could it be? She turned and saw Delphine in full Blades armour march up to him, drop her travel gear to the stone floor, a scowl on her weather-worn face. Esbern followed closely, wearing a new black tunic. M'rassi had completely forgotten about the Blades.

"So, Arngeir, is it?" Delphine asked. "You know why we're here. Are you going to let us in, or not?"

"You were not invited here. You are not welcome here." Arngeir retorted, his voice vehement.

"We have as much right to be at this council as all of you. More actually, since we were the ones who put the Dragonborn on this path."

Arngeir snorted. "Were you? The hubris of the Blades truly knows no bounds."

"Delphine, we're not here to rehearse old grudges." Esbern pushed her aside gently, admonishing her like a misbehaving child. He stepped up to Arngeir. "The matter at hand is urgent. Alduin must be stopped. You wouldn't have called this council if you didn't agree. We know a great deal about the situation and the threat that Alduin poses to us all. You need us here if you want this council to succeed."

Arngeir was silent for a few moments and M'rassi watched with interest as the old man weighed his options. She had to admit, Esbern had a point. Had M'rassi remembered the Blades she would have asked them to come herself.

Finally Arngeir groaned. "Very well, you may proceed."

M'rassi and Onmund dropped their gear in the library before heading to the dining hall.

"Oh gods, I'm not sure I can do this." She whispered quietly.

"You'll be fine, my love." Onmund planted a kiss on her forehead before they went in.

The oval stone table had been cleared of his usual assortment of fruit, flowers, books and bottles, replaced by a tankard of mead at each chair. Twelve chairs had been hastily arranged by Masters Borri and Wulfgar after the change in the number of people attending. Those present looked up when M'rassi walked into the room, her shoulders squared, ears forward, tail raised high, every step exuding confidence. They barely gave the young man following her a thought.

Ulfric and Galmar stood in the far corner glaring at the much larger Imperial delegation, comprised of General Tullius, Legate Rikke, Jarls Balgruuf and Elisif. Looming over them was the stern-faced Thalmor Ambassador, Elenwen. M'rassi felt her heart leap into her throat at the sight of the woman. She hadn't expected Tullius to bring _her_ along. M'rassi just hoped the Ambassador didn't recognise her. She kept moving, trying not to betray her unease, looking each one in the face as she walked around the table. Arngeir walked in behind her with Esbern and Delphine.

M'rassi stood behind a chair directly opposite Arngeir, Onmund instinctively moving to the seat to her right. Galmar and Ulfric milled around behind the next pair, the remaining Blades beside them. Arngeir looked less than thrilled to find himself between Esbern and Elenwen. Tullius took position directly opposite Ulfric, flanked by Balgruuf on his left and Elisif on his right. Legate Rikke moved to the remaining chair, to M'rassi's left. Finally the three remaining Greybeards moved into the room, Borri and Wulfgar flanking the doors and Master Einarth stood directly behind M'rassi.

"Now that everyone is here, please take your seats so we can begin." Master Arngeir said loudly, making sure he was heard by all.

Chairs scraped on the cold stone as people took their seats. But not all.

"I hope we have all come here in the spirit of... " Arngeir had not noticed Ulfric and Galmar still standing.

"No. You insult us by brining her to this negotiation?" Ulfric pointed an accusing finger at the Thalmor Ambassador. "Your chief Talos-Hunter?"

"That didn't take long." Said Legate Rikke quietly, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

M'rassi twisted an ear toward her, but followed Ulfric's finger to stare at Elenwen.

"Hear, hear." Galmar growled, missing Rikke's smart comment.

"I have every right to be at this negotiation. I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to here that violates terms of the White-Gold Concordat." Elenwen said, her voice hard, yet elegant.

"She's part of the Imperial delegation. You can't dictate who I bring to this council." Tullius growled.

"Please! If we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere." Arngeir called loudly. "Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn's input on the matter."

Right then, M'rassi could have kicked Arngeir as all eyes swung around to stare at her. She sniffed softly, sitting up straight.

"By Ysmir's beard, the nerve of these Imperial bastards, eh?" Ulfric addressed her, still standing with his arms folded. "To think that I would sit down at the same table as that... Thalmor bitch. Either she walks or I do."

M'rassi growled softly and she felt Onmund grab her tail gently. She didn't want the mer here either. If she sent her away, then Tullius would think she favoured the Stormcloaks, but if she stayed, there might not be any negotiation at all.

'Violations of the White-Gold Concordat, my arse.' M'rassi thought. 'She's here to see how the Thalmor can use this council to advance the Aldmeri Dominion.'

"The Thalmor have no place here. Leave." M'rassi worded carefully, hoping it did not sound like she was siding with Ulfric.

"I'm glad we agree on this." Ulfric said, and M'rassi bared her teeth at him, laying her ears back.

"Very well, Ulfric. Enjoy your petty victory." Elenwen glared at the Stormcloaks, rising slowly from her seat. "The Thalmor will treat with whatever government rules Skyrim. We would not think of interfering in your civil war." She swept a look of derision over everyone before she strode from the room haughtily.

"Ha! Skyrim will never bow to the Thalmor!" Galmar shot as she left.

M'rassi snorted in contempt as soon as Elenwen was gone. Elenwen's last sentence had been a blatant lie, but only M'rassi, Onmund and Delphine knew that.

"Unlike your Imperial friends here!" Galmar taunted.

"You're lucky I respect the Greybeard's council, Galmar!" Legate Rikke stood, pushing her seat back.

"Enough!" M'rassi barked.

"Legate. We represent the Emperor here." Tullius said firmly, reminding her of her duty.

"Sorry, sir. It won't happen again." Rikke took her seat once again.

"Now that that's settled, may we proceed?" Arngeir asked.

Ulfric and Galmar finally took their seats, the pleasure of their minor triumph written on their faces. M'rassi scowled at them.

"I have something to say first." Ulfric pulled his chair in.

"Here we go." Rikke commented, much more loudly this time.

"The only reason I agreed to this council was to deal with the dragon menace. There's nothing else to talk about, unless the Empire is finally ready to renounce it's unjust claim to rule over the free people of Skyrim." Ulfric told them.

"I knew he wouldn't be able to resist." said the Legate quietly, M'rassi's ear fixed on her.

"We're here to arrange a temporary truce to allow the Dragonborn here to deal with the dragons. Nothing more. I consider even talking to the Empire a generous gesture."

M'rassi gave a low growl, the audacity of that man! Onmund must have heard her, as he tightened his grip on her tail, shaking his head almost im+perceptibly.

"Are you done?" Tullius asked like he would a child. "Did you just come here to make speeches? Or can we get down to business?"

"Yes, let's get this over with." Jarl Ulfric sighed.

"Are we ready to proceed?" Arngeir asked, looking from one leader to the other and back again. When no one protested he addressed them formally.

"Jarl Ulfric. General Tullius. This council is unprecedented. We are gathered here at the Dragonborn's request. I ask that you respect the spirit of High Hrothgar, and do your best to begin the process of achieving a lasting peace in Skyrim. Who would like to open the negotiations?"

"Yes, let's get down to it." Ulfric said, taking the lead because of his prior victory. "We want control of Markarth. That's our price for agreeing to a truce."

M'rassi tried to flick her tail in annoyance, but her husband still had a firm grip on it, so she settled for bearing her tooth in a half-sneer.

"So that's why you're here, Ulfric?" Jarl Elisif spoke up, her voice high and musical. "You dare to insult the Greybeards by using this council to advance your own position?"

"Jarl Elisif, I'll handle this." Tullius shot her a sharp look.

"General, this is outrageous! You can't be taking this demand seriously! I thought we were here to discuss a truce!" She protested.

"Elisif! I said I'd handle it!" Tullius growled at her like she was his child. He stared at the charismatic leader of the rebellion. "Ulfric, you can't seriously expect us to give up Markarth at the negotiating table. You hope to gain in council what you've been unable to take in battle, is that it?"

"I'm sure Jarl Ulfric does not expect something for nothing." Arngeir broke in before Ulfric retaliate.

"Yes, that'd be entirely out of character." Rikke whispered sarcastically.

M'rassi smirked, she was beginning to like this Legate Rikke. She caught Onmund's soft huff of amusement with her sensitive ears, though no one else did.

"What would the Empire want in return?" Arngeir was saying.

"Wait. General, you don't intend to just hand over Markarth to that... traitor!" Elisif interjected.

"This is how the Empire repays us for our loyalty?" Balgruuf asked angrily, up until now he'd been quiet. He scowled at Tullius and Ulfric.

"Enough!" Tullius growled. "First, let's be clear. This council wasn't my idea. I think it's a waste of time."

M'rassi felt Onmund shift in his seat uncomfortably. It had been his idea in the first place.

"You are a traitor to the Empire, and deserve a traitor's death! But I will at least negotiate in good faith." Tullius cast his gaze at M'rassi, who was sitting there with her eyes narrowed. "Since we're all here at your request, I'd like to hear what you think Markarth is worth."

M'rassi took a deep breath and sat back, touching her claws together. She tried to think of the Holds of Skyrim, of which side held what Hold, where their loyalties lay and what benefits each provided. Markarth and the Reach were the source of all of Skyrim's silver, and it would hurt the Empire dearly to lose it. What could Ulfric possibly offer in return? She shifted her gaze back and forth between the two men, and she heard Onmund move his flagon. A brief glance told her all she needed to know, and she nodded so slightly that no one but him could see it.

Onmund had drawn her attention to his hands by moving the cup and he'd been fingering his wedding ring. She thought of the Rift. Aligned to the Stormcloaks and the only pass out of Cyrodiil not under control of the Empire. Losing this supply route would cost the Stormcloaks greatly.

She puffed out her breath to give weight to the single word she uttered.

"Riften."

"Hmm. The Rift would help secure our communications with Cyrodiil... and threaten Ulfric's southern flank..." Tullius said.

M'rassi inclined her head regally. She'd not thought of those, but she hoped Tullius could see how the Rift would help him starve the Stormcloaks.

"The Dragonborn has spoken, Tullius. Markarth will be ours." Ulfric said, his eyes lighting up with triumph. "Now we'll see if there's anything behind your talk of good faith."

"You disappoint me, Dragonborn. I accepted your invitation on trust in your good name. But it seems you intend to favour Ulfric." Tullius said in a low voice.

"If you're referring to that Thalmor jekosiit, I didn't do it for Ulfric. I have my own reasons for wanting her gone. As for Markarth, what would you have me do? Let Ulfric leave? Then where would that leave us?" M'rassi growled back, ears laid flat against her skull. Her tail twitched in Onmund's hands.

With a snort, Tullius turned back to Jarl Ulfric. "I can see now that this is not a negotiation at all. I know you, Ulfric. If I hand over Markarth, you'll be ready with a new demand."

M'rassi could see Tullius was right. Ulfric was... what was the word Paarthurnax used? Pahlok - arrogant in his power. She could see now that her concession with the Thalmor woman had mode him bold. He needed to be taken down a peg.

"You'll never defeat the Empire, and you know it. But you're willing to sacrifice thousands for your own selfish ambition. Soon enough I'll have you back under the headsman's axe, and this time there won't be any dragon to save you." General Tullius scowled.

"As always, the Empire's fine words are worth nothing!" Ulfric taunted.

"Enough!" M'rassi bellowed, jumping up from her seat, baring her teeth and whipping her tail from Onmund's clutches to lash it to and fro.

"Stop!" Esbern broke in at the same time, pushing himself from his seat and yelling. "Are you all so blind to our danger that you can't see beyond your petty disagreements?" He growled, glaring from Tullius to Ulfric and back. "Here you sit arguing about... nothing! While the fate of the land hangs in the balance." He began pacing back and forth behind Arngeir.

M'rassi slowly lowered herself back into her chair, flicking her tail once more, though her scowl never left her face.

"Is he with you, Delphine? If so, I advise him to watch his tongue." Ulfric said to the Breton beside him.

'Hold the sugar?' M'rassi thought. 'They know each other? How?'

"He _is_ with me." Delphine said forcefully. "And I advise you both to listen to what he has to say, before you do anything rash."

Balgruuf, Elisif and Rikke looked at M'rassi in confusion. M'rassi nodded curtly. Listen.

"Don't you understand the danger? Don't you understand what the return of the dragons means? Alduin has returned! The World-Eater! Even now, he devours the souls of your fallen comrades!"

"Alduin? How do we even know he exists? Isn't he just the Nord version of Akatosh?" Tullius asked.

"Does nobody read these days?" Esbern said in exasperation.

"He exists. And he isn't Akatosh!" M'rassi said, using the Cyrodiilic word for Alkosh. "I thought the same at first, but on the 4th of Morning Star, Onmund and I faced Alduin himself in battle, on the top of this very mountain. Alduin was defeated and he fled. Neither of us came away unmarked." M'rassi aid, holding up her shortened tail, and waving at Onmund to show his four-fingered hand. "Yes, Alduin exists, and if anyone dares question that fact, well then, Oblivion take you!"

Esbern nodded curtly, while everyone but Onmund and Arngeir gaped.

"Alduin grows more powerful with every soldier slain in your pointless war! Can you not put aside your hatred for one moment in the face of this mortal danger?" Esbern was almost pleading.

The table was silent for several long moments while everyone digested both M'rassi and Esbern's words. Finally Tullius sighed, rolling his shoulders.

"I don't know about the end of the world, but this dragon situation has gotten out of hand. If this truce will help the Dragonborn here put an end to that menace, we both gain. Remember that, Ulfric." He said.

Esbern returned to his seat, shaking his head.

"Now, back to the matter at hand." Tullius folded his arms and looked Ulfric right in the face. "You know as well as I do that we can't hand over Markarth on these terms."

"Damn Imperial arrogance!" Galmar growled from beside Onmund.

"Let's hear it." Jarl Ulfric said reluctantly.

"We want compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten." Tullius told him.

"You slaughtered the very people you claim to be fighting for! True sons of Skyrim would never do such a thing!" Legate Rikke spoke accusingly.

"Damned Imperial lies!" Galmar shot back. "My men would never stoop to such methods, even in retaliation for your butchery at... "

Ulfric silenced him with a wave of his hand. "This is our homeland Tullius." He said softly. "All the blood spilled in this war is on your head."

'Oh gods, here we go again.' M'rassi thought.

"So, Dragonborn. What do you say?" Tullius asked her.

M'rassi growled quietly as she thought. She didn't know anything about this incident. She got no indication of anything from Onmund either, sitting there with a frown on his face, hands loosely clasped in his lap. It didn't really matter she supposed. Tullius already thought she favoured Ulfric because of Elenwen, maybe she should let him have it to keep her neutrality.

"Ulfric should compensate you for Karthwasten." She swivelled an ear at the Jarl quick enough to catch a disgusted grunt.

"Well said." Tullius nodded sharply before casting his glare at Ulfric. "For once you'll actually pay for your crimes." He sighed. "I suppose that's the fairest deal we're likely to get."

"It seems we may have an agreement." Arngeir said, as if he couldn't quite believe it. He stood to address them.

"Jarl Ulfric... General Tullius... These are the terms currently on the table. Markarth will be handed over to Ulfric's forces. Jarl Igmund will step down, and Thongvor Silver-Blood will become Jarl of Markarth. The Stormcloaks will withdraw from the Rift, allowing Imperial troops unhindered access. Jarl Laila Law-Giver will step down, and Maven Black-Briar will become Jarl of Riften. The Stormcloaks will pay appropriate compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten. You both agree to this?"

"The sons of Skyrim will live up to their agreements. As long as the Imperials hold to theirs." Ulfric agreed, though he didn't like it. "What about you, Elisif? Are these terms to your liking? Speak up! I'm sure General Tullius is waiting to do your bidding!" He taunted.

"I have nothing to say to that murderer!" Elisif spat as M'rassi gave Ulfric a snarl. "General, you've proven yourself a good friend to Skyrim. I continue to trust that you will do your best to safeguard our interests."

"Thank you, Jarl Elisif. I appreciate your loyalty." He said quietly. "The Empire can live with those terms, yes. For a temporary truce, until the dragon menace is dealt with. After that, Ulfric... there will be a reckoning. Count on it."

Tullius, Ulfric and M'rassi all signed the paperwork outlining the truce in triplicate. Arngeir gave each leader a copy, retaining one for the Greybeards.

"Come on, Galmar. We have a lot of work to do." Jarl Ulfric led his friend from the chamber.

M'rassi sighed deeply, resting her head on one hand and fixing her eyes on a crack in the tabletop by her elbow. She felt a hand on her knee, and curled her tail around Onmund's wrist.

"Giving up Markarth is a heavy price for this truce, M'rassi. I hope it was worth it." Balgruuf said sadly.

"What would you have done in my place, Balgruuf?" She replied softly, deliberately using his name rather than his title. She didn't even look up.

"Jarl Balgruuf, I assume you are familiar with the Dragonborn's plan?" Arngeir asked the green-eyed Jarl.

"Yes, but I'm ready to do my part." He told Arngeir. "Just say the word, and my men will help you spring this trap."

M'rassi looked up when he addressed her this time.

"Thank you, my Jarl."

"But the difficulty remains - how to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach at all?" Arngeir stated.

"Well that's an excellent question. You haven't overlooked that little detail have you?" Tullius asked.

M'rassi's breath caught in her muzzle. She mentally slapped herself, as it was indeed something she'd not thought of.

"Ah. I believe I can be of help here." Esbern cut in.

M'rassi could have kissed the old man, for sparing her from the embarrassment.

"I anticipated the problem. While you were arranging this meeting, I was busy in the library of Sky Haven Temple. An unguessed trove of lost lore... but the important thing is that the Blades recorded many of the names of dragons they slew. Cross-referencing this with Delphine's map of dragon burial sites, and I believe I've identified one of the dragons Alduin has raised up." Esbern explained.

"And this helps us how?" Onmund asked, finally speaking up.

"Ah, don't you see? The names of dragons are always three Words of Power - Shouts."

"I knew that... " M'rassi had guessed as much.

"By calling the dragon with the Voice, he will hear you wherever he might be." Esbern said.

"And why should he come when I call him?" M'rassi asked, dropping her hand from her head.

"He's not compelled to," Esbern shrugged. "But dragons are prideful by nature and loath to refuse a challenge. Your Voice in particular is likely to intrigue this dragon, after your victory over Alduin. I think it very likely he will be unable to resist investigating your call."

"So what is this dragon's name?" She asked.

"Ah, indeed. I'm no master of the Voice like these worthy gentlemen," Esbern nodded to Arngeir at his side. "But it is written here on this scroll."

He tossed the vellum to M'rassi and she immediately opened it, reading the name in Esbern's spidery handwriting.

"Od-Ah-Viing. 'Winged-Snow-Hunter,' as I read it."

"Thank you, Esbern."

"I hope this truce gives you what you need. It won't last." Legate Rikke said to M'rassi as the Imperial delegation took their leave. It was getting too late to travel by now, so they would stay over night here and venture down the mountain in the morning.

M'rassi remained seated as they shuffled off to the visitor's dormitory, pressing her nose to the stone table.

"Smell good?" Onmund asked, working the knots out of her shoulders expertly with his deft fingers.

"Smells like... stone... and mead. Gods, I'm glad that's over." She sighed, the massage relaxing her.

"Me too." He smiled.

"You did well here today." Arngeir said, leaning on the chair recently vacated by Legate Rikke. "I don't think it will last long, but that will not be on your account."

"Thank you, Master Arngeir." M'rassi replied, though his words gave her little comfort.


	18. Paarthurnax

**Chapter Eighteen: Paarthurnax.**

They lingered in the dining hall for another half an hour, picking apart the negotiations piece by piece, debating if they could have done anything differently. M'rassi kept thinking that there was something she might have overlooked, but in the end Onmund convinced her that she'd done everything right, and that it was Ulfric's Nord stubbornness that had made things turn out the way they did.

"You know us, M'rassi. Fool Nords and our thick-skulled stubbornness! Isn't that what you always say?" He grinned and she laughed.

They decided to raid the kitchens and retire to the library but when they walked out of the dining hall they were stopped by Delphine.

She stepped into their path, arms folded and frowning.

"Delphine, what do you need?"

"There's one last thing. We know about Paarthurnax." She scowled.

"Wait, what?" M'rassi asked, surprised.

She and Onmund had been careful to not reveal the grandmaster's identity, but somehow the Blades knew.

"Paarthurnax. The dragon that the Greybeards have been protecting all these years."

"So, he's a dragon. He helped me." M'rassi shrugged.

"That's fine. We needed his help. Now we don't, and it's long past time for him to pay for his crimes."

"What crimes?" Onmund asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"He's not just any dragon. He was the right hand of Alduin."

"What!" M'rassi blurted.

"He committed atrocities so infamous they are still remembered, thousands of years later. He needs to die. He deserves to die. And it falls to you to kill him. Until he's dead... well, I'm sorry, but we would dishonour our oaths as Blades if we continued to help you." Delphine spun on her heel and stalked off, leaving M'rassi and Onmund standing there completely bewildered.

"What in Oblivion... " M'rassi muttered, brow furrowed and ears back. "We need to talk to Master Arngeir."

"Agreed."

They marched along the corridors of High Hrothgar past the library, the kitchens and the visitor's dormitory to the Greybeard's private sleeping quarters. There they found Arngeir pouring himself a stiff drink of Cyrodiilic brandy. He poured extra glasses when he heard them approach.

"Master Arngeir, I am troubled. I would speak with you."

"Of course, Dragonborn."

M'rassi accepted the glass from Arngeir and knocked the whole lot straight back. She needed that.

"The Blades have asked me to kill Paarthurnax." She said.

"Now you see why I warned you against them! Bloodthirsty barbarians!" Arngeir growled.

"They said Paarthurnax used to be Alduin's ally. Is this true?"

Arngeir paused, weighing the question in his mind. "Yes. But understand - during the days of Alduin's rule, all dragons were his allies. There was nothing else they could be. If not for Paarthurnax, Alduin could not have been overthrown. It was he that first taught men to use the Thu'um."

M'rassi was silent for a moment, thinking on what both the Blades and Arngeir had said.

"I don't know what to do... "

"You're learning, Dragonborn. Doing nothing can be the wisest choice, although strangely often, the most difficult. I trust that you will make the right choice, in the end. Listen to the Voice that Kynareth has placed within you, and your path will be clear."

"I must speak with Master Paarthurnax." She said, gluing her eyes to the floor.

"If you must. I trust you will not do anything rash. Best wait until morning, hmm? The mountain is perilous at night."

"Of course."

"Sky, guard you." Arngeir bowed, dismissing them.

They made their way back to the library, forgetting their hunger for the time being.

"What do you think we should do?" M'rassi asked, leaning against the mantle piece, keeping her eyes fixed on the flame.

"I don't know." Onmund sighed, sinking into a chair. "Sometimes I think the Blades have the right of it, and sometimes I think the Greybeards do. But I think Master Paarthurnax should speak for himself. We can go from there."

"That's exactly what I was thinking." She flicked her tail. "We'll go up tomorrow morning. We might be able to delay Balgruuf and travel with their entourage to Whiterun. May as well get this all over and done with."

"Yes, about that... I was wondering if I could... make a request?" Onmund asked.

"Oh?" M'rassi turned away from the fire to face her husband.

Onmund sat back in his chair, his fingers forming a peak. His blue eyes were fixed to the hearthstones, brow furrowed. He took a deep slow breath and looked up at his wife.

"I have the feeling that one way or another, the path ends soon. Before that happens... I would like to see my family... just in case... I know we didn't always get along... but they're my family. Yours too, now."

"Of course, my love." She cupped his face with her hand. "We can go on the way to Whiterun. I would very much like to meet them."

"Thanks." He replied placing his own hand over hers. "I knew I could count on you."

"I just wish you could have met mine." M'rassi said sadly. "Feel like a game of zahb? Where're the cards?" She changed the subject quickly.

Onmund knew she was evading again, but chose not to pursue the matter. Let her tell him in her own time. He himself had deliberately avoided talking about his family, only pointing out the farm once as they passed between the Whiterun and the river it was named after.

"In my pack. Where else would they be? In Alduin's stomach with the end of your tail?"

"You're insufferable!"

"You love me, really." He chuckled.

She dug around in Onmund's pack, looking for the leather pouch which contained a deck of cards made of painted and lacquered parchment. He'd won them from a Khajiit at a dingy bar in Markarth and they'd had a hard life, the edges were tattered and folded, the lacquer was chipped and peeling. She found the battered cards at the bottom, underneath the dossier on Ulfric Stormcloak.

"Here they are!" She pulled them out with a flourish.

They sat down in front of the fire across from each other and Mrassi started to deal the cards.

"Rahts-high, Manes-wild. Minimum is ten drakes a round."

"Sure you can afford it?"

"Oh, just try me!" M'rassi laughed.

She'd taught him how to play the game during their long carriage rides between cities. Onmund had picked it up astonishingly quickly, and soon he was better than her. He didn't tell her that it was because she had a tell, a minute wiggle of her ears whenever she was bluffing. Sure enough, half an hour later, he had all her coin in several neat piles by his knees.

"Damn." M'rassi swore, having just lost another hand.

"Ready to give up?"

M'rassi unbuckled her belt, depositing it in front of Onmund's folded legs. "Never."

"Fool Khajiit and your lack of modesty!" Onmund flushed.

M'rassi grinned, she'd still not broken him of his inhibitions. She particularly enjoyed the way his colour went right to his ears. Maybe now that the stakes were raised, her husband might be flustered enough to make mistakes. Especially if she lost a few rounds first.

She was right. After losing her boots, hood and outer-robes, Onmund's play began to worsen. Soon she'd claimed both his robes and undershirt, forgetting her coin for the time being.

"Lose the shirt!" Onmund grinned evilly, after winning a hand.

M'rassi started to pull her shirt off but froze when she heard a noise.

"Dragonborn, huh?" Said a voice from the doorway. "Was it your ma or your pa that was the dragon?"

They twisted around from their card game to see who spoke and M'rassi shoved her shirt back down. Engrossed in the game, they had forgotten where they were, and were mortified that someone had walked in on them.

Leaning on the doorframe was a good-looking Nord with grey eyes and chin length brown hair. He was dressed in Imperial Legion armour and had a smirk on his face.

"Hadvar?" M'rassi asked, not quite believing her eyes.

"Yep." He said simply.

M'rassi jumped up, abandoning the card game to greet the man who'd freed her.

"Sugar and sand, friend! It's good to see you!" She clasped his wrist firmly as he did the same to her.

"Good to see you too!" Her pulled her into an embrace and clapped her on the back. "Why aren't you wearing any shoes?"

"Hadvar," She pushed him back, ignoring the question. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Onmund had gotten to his feet, his expression uncomfortable after seeing the unfamiliar man's greeting.

"This is my husband." M'rassi waved him forward and curled her tail around his waist.

"Husband? Well good for you! I'm Hadvar." He offered his hand.

"Onmund Nine-Fingers." The younger Nord said stiffly.

"Good to meet you! But Mrassi, you haven't answered my questions."

"Oh, it was my mother who was the dragon. You made her mad, I swear she breathed fire."

"And the shoes?"

"We were playing zahb." M'rassi waved at the scattered cards, coins and clothes.

"Oh?" Hadvar looked at the scene and it dawned on him just what had been going on. "Oh. Oh, gods." He blushed.

"Look Onmund! He's worse than you!"

They both roared with laughter as the Imperial Legion soldier turned a dark red that only deepened with their guffaws; he was almost as red as his uniform.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" M'rassi asked, struggling to contain her mirth.

"I came with the Imperial delegation, though General Tullius didn't want me in the meeting. After you arranged for him to come, he sent word for me to meet up with him in Ivarstead. I was very surprised when he told that you were the Dragonborn."

"I'm surprised you didn't hear it from someone, sure, I've been keeping a low profile, but it's not exactly secret. I've really only had to be careful around the Thalmor. Especially after the Embassy incident."

"The Embassy? That was you?" Hadvar frowned. "What in Oblivion for?"

"I needed to know what the Thalmor knew about the dragons."

"By Talos! Are you completely mad!"

"Yep." Onmund smirked.

"Hey!" M'rassi slapped his arm playfully.

"Anyway, I didn't hear about you because Legate Rikke stationed me in the Rift. We didn't get many travellers through the camp. First I heard of it was when Tullius summoned me to Ivarstead. Speaking of which; I overheard Jarl Balgruuf and General Tullius talking about your insane plan to trap a dragon. He's given me a few days leave to help. I thought I might travel back to Whiterun with you."

M'rassi and Onmund shared a glance.

"We have some business to finish up here first. Tell you what, go with Balgruuf and find my Housecarl, and wait for us in Whiterun. Ask for Lydia at the smithy; they'll point you in the right direction." M'rassi said. She really didn't want Hadvar to tag along when she met Onmund's family, never mind Paarthurnax.

"Okay, then..." Hadvar drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, before I forget, I have something for you."

He held out the oddest looking satchel that Onmund had ever seen. It was a long leather tube sewn shut at the bottom with a circular flap covering the top. It was decorated with brightly coloured beads, feathers and strips of leather. There was a single broad strap, embroidered with exotic designs that looked curiously familiar.

"By the Twin Moons! That's my pack!" M'rassi exclaimed, jaw hanging open. "Where did you get this? How did you get this?"

"When I got back to Solitude, I pulled a few strings and returned to the ambush site. It took a bit of searching but I found it. It's been sitting in a chest back at camp since. I figured you'd turn up sometime and I could return it. I'm amazed it held up in the snow for so long. You khajiit make your packs to last."

"We have to, sand gets everywhere in the desert. Wears out the seams and fittings." M'rassi explained, gently taking the pack from Hadvar. "Thank you." She made a khajiiti gesture of kinship.

"This was nearby, is it yours too?" Hadvar pulled a silver chain hanging from his neck, revealing a very pale blue diamond, naturally formed in the shape of a teardrop and framed with a thin silver band. It looked insanely expensive, something that only a master smith could have made.

If Onmund thought M'rassi was astonished by the pack, she was absolutely incredulous to see the pendant.

"I never thought to see this again." She held out her hands and Hadvar dropped the pendant carefully. "Do you know what this is, Onmund? This is my most precious possession. Its an heirloom that has been in my family for generations."

"It's beautiful." Onmund replied, studying it closely.

"Family legend says that it's been handed down since the late third era. Thank you, Hadvar!" She gave him a quick khajiiti kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome." Hadvar flushed.

"Come, sit. We'll tell you what's happened since Helgen." M'rassi waved Hadvar over to the chairs.

So they told him everything. M'rassi did most of the talking, though Onmund occasionally took over when her mouth got dry. The only thing they didn't tell him was about Paarthurnax, simply referring to him as the Grandmaster. They told him what went on during the peace council, including the removal of Elenwen and Esbern's admonishment of the lot of them.

"I didn't think anyone could do it. I've been petitioning General Tullius all this time for a truce with the Stormcloaks until we could deal with the dragons, but he never listened." Hadvar said quietly.

"Guess all they needed was the Dragonborn to give them a kick up their collective backsides." Onmund smirked.

"Ha! And that Thalmor woman. She jumped Tullius as soon as the meeting ended, demanding to know exactly what was agreed on. I've never seen anyone so wild, yet so composed at the same time. Was it really necessary to kick her out?"

"Yes." M'rassi rummaged around in Onmund's pack, pulling out Ulfric's tattered dossier. "I think you should read this."

Hadvar read the wad of papers, his frown growing deeper the more he read.

"So the Thalmor are behind it all..." He muttered.

"They were the ones who manipulated Ulfric into starting his little war without him even realising it. I don't know how. I don't know why. But yes, they're pulling the strings on both sides."

"Ysmir's beard... this certainly casts a whole new light on the war. I must tell General Tullius!" Hadvar began to get up.

"No!" M'rassi barked, and he froze. "Not yet! Wait until after I've dealt with Alduin, else all Oblivion breaks loose before my job is done. Balgruuf certainly won't like that."

"You're right. Here." Hadvar held out the book to M'rassi.

"Keep it. You'll know when to show him. Best not let the Ambassador see it though, it came from her desk, after all."

"I don't have that big a death wish." Hadvar smiled. "Anyway, I'd better get some sleep. I'll try to make Uncle Alvor's place by tomorrow night now that Helgen Pass is open again."

"It was good to see you again, Hadvar."

"You too, M'rassi. And it was nice to meet you too, Onmund."

"Likewise."

"I'll see you both in Whiterun." Hadvar called as he strode from the room, tucking the dossier under his uniform.

"I can't believe he found my old pack!" M'rassi said excitedly. "I wonder if everything is still inside?"

She sat on the floor next to the fire and Onmund took position across from her, watching with interest as she examined the odd-looking knapsack.

"Maybe. From the sounds of it he found it soon pretty soon after you escaped Helgen." He said.

M'rassi untied the flap and fished out a grubby yellow shirt made of light cotton. It had a flap across the front, held by a wooden button at the top and knotted braids down the right-hand side. It was obviously designed for a hot climate, a man could freeze wearing such a thing in Skyrim.

"This is my budi. It's a khajiiti shirt. Nice and light, not like the woollen clothes you have up here." She peeled off her under-tunic and wriggled into the budi. She didn't really notice that she'd started speaking with her Ta'agra mannerisms.

"Looks good on you." Onmund smiled as she rummaged around and found a faded orange cravat, which she tied around her neck.

"Oh, they're still here!" She pulled out three books. She smiled lovingly down at each of them, before she passed them to Onmund.

"These are khajiiti books. This one is 'Words of Clan Mother Ahnissi to her Favoured Daughter.'" She pointed to a smaller, very tattered book. "And this one is 'Ahzirr Trajijazaeri'. It will help you understand khajiit better."

"And this one?" Onmund held out a thick book in an ornate red leather cover, tooled with bronze inlays. The text both on the cover and inside was Ta'agra so he couldn't read it.

"Ah, that is the 'Riddle-Thar', the khajiit holy book. Like Clan Mother Ahnissi, but much more... " She swore softly in her native tongue, struggling to find the right word.

"In-depth?"

"Yes. It is the teachings of our god Riddle-Thar. It tells how the old Confederacy would be run, before the Thalmor broke it and reinstated Anequina and Pellitine. It also tells guidelines for khajiit to live by. Sei'dar and Je'm'ath and the like. It belonged to M'rassi's father."

"You've never really talked of your family." Onmund said, but she'd buried herself back in her pack.

"I know. I'm grateful that you've been so patient with me." M'rassi replied without looking up. She pulled out several potions; a silver container half-full with moon sugar; scraps of parchment, papyrus and vellum; finally pulling out a short sword in a cracked wooden scabbard. The brown and gold paint was chipped. She pulled on the scabbard and a triangular blade made of copper slid out, polished to a mirror shine.

"This was... sira cihar rabi... Mother's cihar. All rujiit... two-legged... hunters of her clan bore these." M'rassi said, struggling with her Tamrielic in her excitement.

Onmund accepted the beautiful blade when she offered it to him, running his finger along the very edge. It was lovingly maintained and very sharp.

"And last is this." M'rassi pulled out a thin pamphlet, with brightly painted pictures and Ta'agra written in a masculine hand. "It is time."

"Hmm?"

"We are meeting your family soon. It is time for you to meet my family, the only way you can. Through these things."

Onmund tilted his head, his braids ticking his collarbone, but he remained silent.

"Please, bear with me. Meetings of family are important events. There are formalities to be observed." M'rassi took the silver box of moon sugar and placed it on the floor between them. She took a pinch of sugar and licked it off her fingers. She indicated for Onmund to do the same.

He hesitated. He'd shared the sugar with her only a few times since that first night at the College, and each time he saw bright colours swirling across everything for hours. This was also accompanied by a burst of manic energy followed by an intense headache. Still, if it was important to her... he took a pinch and popped the sugar in his mouth. He squirmed as the sickeningly sweet substance touched his tongue. It would be half an hour before he started feeling the effects.

"Mother is first. Mother was a proud huntress of the Dro'zhrao clan before the Thalmor did another purge of the wild cats. She was given this sword when she made her first kill. Mother's name was Zarahji. She and a few others escaped the purge by melting into the city cats in Awl-qures, named Orcrest in Tamrielic. There she met father." M'rassi had the sword back in it's scabbard, and was tracing the gold markings with a claw.

She laid the sword aside and picked up the 'Riddle-Thar.'

"This was Father's book. Father was a budiit, a tailor, a good one. Father's name was S'diji. He helped feed the clanless hunters and fell in love with mother. She always said he had a good heart. Father made this for me." She held out the pamphlet.

"It looks like a children's story."

"It was my favourite story when I was ja-khajiit... a child. The four brothers and the riding-kite. He used to read to M'rassi and Faajo every night." M'rassi smiled.

"Faajo?"

"My older brother... "

"You miss them terribly... " Onmund took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Yes. M'rassi's parents died of the wasting when M'rassi was just ten summers old. This is why Onmund cannot meet M'rassi's family."

"Oh, M'rassi, I'm sorry. That must have been terrible. I see now why you were reluctant to speak of them." He reached over and stroked her face.

"There is more." She said, curling her tail around his wrist.

She pulled out the gorgeous tear-drop pendant from a pocket. She looked around and seeing the door was shut she weaved her magicka. She threw a Lightning Rune at the door, and threaded together a complicated spell that would keep anyone from overhearing anything that was said in the room. It was one she'd learned from Magister Irorian's spell books, before the accident.

"Secrets are important to khajiit, and this is why M'rassi does not talk about her family."

"But why?"

"What does Onmund know of the Oblivion Crisis?" She asked.

"That Martin Septim and the Champion of Cyrodiil stopped Mehrunes Dagon from destroying Tamriel."

"And what do you know of the Champion?"

"Only what the history books say, which isn't much."

"Nothing is recorded of the Champion's race or gender. And for good reason."

"Oh?"

"M'rassi's family have always tried to keep secret. According to our family legend, the Champion was khajiit. Not just any khajiit, but my ancestor."

"So you're saying you are descended from the Champion of Cyrodiil?"

"Yes, and not just her. The legend also says that she and Septim were lovers. That after he died... ascended... whichever... she bore him a son and fled to one of the realms of Oblivion."

Onmund's jaw dropped, it was incredible. He wasn't sure if he believed it or not. "I'm not quite sure what to think."

"I'm not entirely certain I believe it myself. Father taught us well, and old habits die hard. So I have kept the family legend secret. The only proof I have it this." She dangled the pendant in the firelight.

"How does that work in?" Onmund asked.

"When Martin Septim shattered the Amulet of Kings, he became an Avatar of Akatosh, in all his bright glory. Such a thing could not be, and he turned into the Dragon statue which still stands in the Imperial City. With his last breath, he shed a single tear."

"The pendant?"

"Yes. My family has passed it down the generations since. We call it 'Dragon's Tear.' It has always brought us luck."

Onmund was thunderstruck. He couldn't quite comprehend what she'd just told him. That she might just be the last living Septim heir.

M'rassi shrugged. "For all I know, it is just some trinket picked up in a marketplace somewhere long ago, but it was important to my father. This is my family's greatest secret and now I am sharing it with you." She took another pinch of the sugar.

"Thank you, M'rassi. Onmund will keep this secret close to his heart." He bowed his head, trying to emulate her native mannerisms as best he could. He felt like that was the right thing to say. He took another pinch of moon sugar.

"See? You are learning khajiit ways already!" She smiled, and started to replace everything back in her odd khajiiti knapsack.

"I try. Besides, sometimes I think you're a Nord beneath all that fur!" He teased. "Especially with all the mead you drink!"

"You must be rubbing off on me!"

They laughed loudly, the sound bouncing oddly around the library. M'rassi's silencing spell was still in effect, maintained by a tiny flow of magicka. After a few moments, M'rassi went quiet.

"I should tell you about Riverhold too." M'rassi told him, ears low and whiskers drooping.

"Only if you want to."

"It was only a year-and-a-half ago now, the memories are still raw, though not as much as they once were. You know I was in the Synod, right?"

"Yes."

"I have always had an affinity for magic, even when I was young. After our parents died, Faajo and I ran with the street gangs for years. We used to get up to so much trouble, sneaking and hiding and stealing. When M'rassi came of age, Faajo took me to Riverhold and the Synod. He begged Magister Irorian to let us join."

"Irorian was like the Arch-Mage?"

"Not quite. There have been no Arch-Mages since the schism of the old Mages Guild. He was... like Mirabelle. Called Magister, since he was a full mage and not an apprentice. Bloody Synod and their silly titles. Bah! It's not important. Irorian was an Altmer, closely tied to the Thalmor, though not as ruthless. He was reluctant to have Khajiiti apprentices, but Faajo convinced him to take us in." M'rassi pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. Resting her chin on her knees, she continued. "There were five apprentices including me and Faajo: an Imperial, Gaius Atilius; a Bosmer, Farean; and a Breton, Yannic Llewellyn. We all chafed with the tough restrictions that Irorian and the others imposed. Worse still was their blatant disregard for their charges."

"More concern for politics than teaching." Onmund interjected.

"Yes. They left us to our own devices, so we had to teach ourselves. This was not easy, as I'm sure you know. There were several minor incidents. Gaius let a scamp run amok, even though Conjuration is banned, and Farean turned Yan into a slarjei... a camel. Faajo even turned his fur bright green and mine went blue!"

"I'd pay to see that!" Onmund joked, and she swatted his leg with her tail.

"We were there for seven years, and still only apprentices after all that time. Faajo and Gaius really hated it. We were always trying to come up with new experiments to impress Irorian, so he would make us full mages. One day, Farean came up with an experiment that required all five of us to focus our magic on a soul gem. He had a theory that by focusing our magicka just so, we could free the soul trapped within. It worked, to a degree. When the soul of a daedra broke out, the gem exploded. Farean and Faajo were the closest... "

"They were killed?"

"Yes... Gaius, Yannic and I tried to fight it with our magic, but we lost control and the building caught fire." M'rassi sniffed, her face impassive, and her voice flat and detached. "The senior mages tried to fight both the daedra and the fire, but it was too little, too late... We managed to escape with a few precious possessions. Once everyone was outside we saw that two of the senior mages were missing. Once the fire was out, the Thalmor ordered our execution, but Magister Irorian stepped in. He argued for our lives. But then he expelled us from the Synod. Not only had we ignored the ban on conjuration, but people had died as a result of our foolish experiment. We could never practice in the Synod, or the Dominion again. So we fled north into Cyrodiil. We were held at the border for weeks on the Elsweyr side. A Thalmor agent killed Gaius after he mouthed off at the mer. After that, Yan and I kept our heads low and waited for our paperwork to sort itself. Finally we crossed into Cyrodiil and into the Empire. Once Legate Tacitus released us, we travelled to Skingrad, where Yan had family. Yannic was accepted into the Cyrodiilic Synod at the old Arcane University, they didn't care about Riverhold. That was the Dominion Synod, they said, and nothing to do with them. But I could see that they had the same problem as the Dominion Synod. They wouldn't teach me what I needed to know: control."

"Too obsessed with politics."

"Yes. Their facilities were better, but their proximity to the Emperor Titus Mede II and Elder Council blinded them to all else. So while I stayed with Yan's family, I wrote to Arch-Mage Aren to gain entry to the College of Winterhold. Well, I dictated and Yannic's aunt wrote. Aren was happy to accept, and I spent the next six months hunting grizzly bears in the West Weald for enough coin to come north. I wrote to him again when I left Skingrad. Then I walked into the ambush at Pale Pass, and that's where my path as Dragonborn began."

"By the Nine, M'rassi. Tolfdir really was right, wasn't he? Magic really can overwhelm you... " He placed a comforting hand on her knee. She'd not only lost her parents, but her brother and her friends. And from the way she said Yannic's name he suspected they'd been very close. "This can't be easy to talk about."

"It's not. I only told Arch-Mage Aren the whole story, and now you. Just... thank you for listening. And being so patient with me."

"Anytime, love." He shuffled over to his wife and put his arms around her and she relaxed. Onmund was beginning to feel the earliest effects of the moon sugar, the flames in the fireplace had turned green, and the paved stone floor was looking rather purplish. He shut his eyes and held her close, breathing in the dusty, spicy scent of her magic.

"Are you still holding those Wards?" He asked, surprised that she was still sending out tiny threads of magicka.

"Yes. Do you reckon we should take advantage of them, my love?" She whispered in his ear, her voice husky.

"Best idea I've heard all night." He murmured, watching her ear flick as his warm breath washed over it. She squealed as he grabbed her and buried his face in the soft fur of her neck.

##########

Snow crunched under their boots as they approached the broken Word Wall where Paarthurnax perched. They'd left early in the morning, just before sunup. With luck they would be back at High Hrothgar that evening, and they could start their two day trek to Whiterun in the morning. Of course, that all depended on how Paarthurnax answered the charges laid on him by the Blades.

"Master Paarthurnax, I have to ask you something." M'rassi sat on the snow before him.

"Speak. I will listen." Paarthurnax rumbled.

"The Blades say you deserve to die. They have asked that I do it." She told him.

Paarthurnax gave a great sigh, ruffling his leathery wings. "The Blades are wise not to trust me. Onikaan ni ov. I would not trust another dovah."

"Why shouldn't they trust you?"

"Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood. You feel it in yourself, do you not?"

She did, M'rassi admitted to herself.

"I can be trusted. I know this. But they do not. Onikaan ni ov dovah. It is always wise to mistrust a dovah." Paarthurnax tossed his horns and his wings quivered. "I have overcome my nature only through meditation and long study of the Way of the Voice. No day goes by where I am not tempted to return to my inborn nature. Zin krif horvut se suleyk. What is better - to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

M'rassi closed her eyes to think. Did Paarthurnax really deserve to die?

She'd read much on the Dragon War while she was at Sky Haven Temple, but she'd seen nothing on Paarthurnax. Perhaps any information that might have been there was confined to the library Esbern had mentioned. She'd not really explored the old Temple much, instead poring over the books that she'd collected over her travels. For all she knew, the Blades were lying and were just trying to manipulate her into killing all the dragons, Paarthurnax included.

But then Arngeir had admitted the old dragon's crimes. Paarthurnax really had been Alduin's right-hand dragon. He'd tortured and slaughtered mortals by the thousands, men and mer alike. And yet that was almost six thousand years ago. He had turned on his former master, taught men how to use the Thu'um, an action which brought about Alduin's defeat. Since then he'd done nothing but help the people he had subjugated in the past.

Paarthurnax had spoken of his will to dominate and asked M'rassi if she felt it within herself. She did. She had seen it when she was meditating at Sky Haven Temple. When she looked inside and saw herself for who and what she truly was. Like a lover whispering sweetly in her ears, she heard a faint call to power, softly encouraging her to stamp her will on the world; like Tiber Septim had when he founded the Empire at the beginning of the Third Era. It had taken her some time to convince herself that that was not what she wanted. She did not want to use her Thu'um to conquer Tamriel. Instead she poured that will into her magic, her desire to control the arcane.

What of Paarthurnax then? His own tyrannical nature must be extremely difficult to overcome. What she only felt as a whisper, he must feel as the thundering of a legion of drums drowning out all other thought. Was he only held in check by the Way of the Voice? Or did he truly regret his past actions? Certainly, he had done nothing but help M'rassi.

And what about the Blades? They'd stolen the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from Ustengrav, then twisted her arm into the Thalmor Embassy incident. Since then they had helped her, though they seemed to treat her as an asset rather than a person. Someone they could manipulate into doing their will. And now they asked her to do this?

And the Greybeards! If Delphine had not told her about Paarthurnax's crimes, would M'rassi have ever known? Would the Greybeards have kept her in the dark too? M'rassi scowled, ears back tail, twitching in irritation. Her thoughts were taking her around in circles!

'The question is really this,' M'rassi thought. 'Do_ I_ trust Paarthurnax?' She knew the answer in an instant. 'Yes.'

She stood up and brushed the snow from her shoulders.

"Master Paarthurnax?"

The great dragon twisted his head to regard her with interest.

"If you must die, it will not be by my hand."

"Brit lovaas laas. Thank you, Dovahkiin. It pleases me to listen to life's music for a time yet."

"Lok Thu'um, Dro'Paarthunax." M'rassi smiled, using the khajiiti affectation for grandfather.

"Su'um ahrk morah."

They bowed low to the mighty dragon and left.

"I think you made the right choice, dear." Onmund said as they began their descent.

"It feels like the right call."

By the time they reached High Hrothgar early that evening they were very tired. General Tullius and his entourage had left during the day, taking Balgruuf and Hadvar with them. The temple had gone back to it's usual solemn quiet. They were in the kitchen getting a cup of hot tea when Arngeir found them.

"So, Dragonborn, you have spoken to Paarthurnax?" He asked, a look of concern on his face.

"I am not going to kill Paarthurnax."

Arngeir smiled widely.

"I am glad to hear it. It seems you've returned to the right path on your own, after all. Kynareth has placed the Voice of wisdom in you, Dragonborn. All you need to do is learn to listen to it, and your path will be clear."

"Thank you, Master Arngeir. Now, we'd better get some sleep before we head down to Whiterun."

"Very well, Dragonborn. Wind guide you."


	19. Onmund's Request

**Chapter Nineteen: Onmund's Request.**

White-Scythe Farm was a modest little farmstead on the lower slopes of the White River, near a hamlet called Whitevalley Wash, an hours walk from Whiterun. The White-Scythe family had worked the land here for generations, the farmhouse itself was a hodgepodge of several buildings that had been added to and removed over the years. An ancient windmill stood before the house, blades creaking lazily in the icy wind. There were several fields, some planted with winter wheat, laying dormant under a dusting of snow; while the others were empty, awaiting tilling during First Seed, a couple of months away yet.

There was a man chopping wood outside the mill, and a dog chasing chickens around the yard. It stopped when it spied the visitors walking down the rutted path, announcing their presence with a series of loud yips. The man growled at the dog to stop when he recognised who one of them was, but the animal carried on its cacophony anyway.

"Didn't think to see your ugly mug back here, Hidden-Spark. Or with a pet. You watch yourself, Khajiit. We don't need your kind here." The man growled, not stopping his chore for a minute.

M'rassi growled lowly. Her husband scuffed his boot loudly, and she caught him shaking his head ever so slightly. Not now. This kind of reception was usually what she got in Skyrim, and normally she'd give the person a piece of her mind.

"Good to see you too, Jevik," Onmund replied, his voice flat. "Is Ma inside?"

"Where else would she be, idiot?" Jevik White-Scythe finally stopped chopping. "If you're going in, you might as well make yourself useful." He waved at the pile of chopped wood.

Jevik was taller and broader than Onmund, with flaxen hair and thick beard. He had the same blue eyes, flat nose and jutting chin. He was dressed in some very patched clothing, his hands were rough and calloused. He wore an amulet very similar to Onmund's, only Jevik's had a gold rim. He was older than Onmund, closer to M'rassi's age. His older brother, maybe?

With an armload of wood each, they tramped over to the door which stood ajar by an inch, the dog running rings around the strange khajiit, still baying. M'rassi ignored the hound, used to Meeko's antics whenever she returned home. Onmund pushed the heavy door aside with his elbow and led M'rassi into a large kitchen. They stacked the wood next to a fireplace, where a mutton stew was bubbling. Onmund waved M'rassi to a corner where they could drop their knapsacks

"Jevik! Would you shut that dog up!" Called a shrill woman's voice.

"It's not Jevik, Ma! It's Onmund!"

"Onmund? You haven't gone and blown yourself up, then?" An older woman bustled into the room with a big laundry basket.

"No, Ma!"

"Good, always knew that fool College was a waste of time."

M'rassi saw her husband stiffen. Had he been khajiit, his ears would have been back and tail twitching in irritation.

"It's not a waste of time!" He hissed.

"No? Then why are you here, dressed like a Jarl? And who is the cat?" She turned her gaze to M'rassi.

"I can't come visit my family anymore?" Onmund shot back.

The old woman bit off her words and sighed deeply.

"No, it's just... you surprised me. I never expected you to come back from that fool College once you'd left. Sorry... "

"It's alright, Ma. I wasn't sure if I would, either. But you are my family, and that's important. It took me far too long to remember that."

"Water under the bridge, now. Come, let me look at you." She stepped close to him and took his face in her hands.

Onmund waited patiently as his mother turned his face from side to side, up and down. She poked and prodded him in the ribs. He'd slimmed down quite a bit over the last few months. Months of travelling across Skyrim, and his constant use of magic had almost thinned him down to the wiry stature typical of mages.

M'rassi watched with apprehension, keeping her mouth shut, lest she say something stupid. Onmund's mother was a short, dumpy woman about the same age as Delphine. She had her son's nose and eyes, but her hair was blonde and greying at the temples.

"I haven't suddenly grown an extra nose, have I?" Onmund asked, smiling.

"Of course not!" His mother reached up and pulled him down into a hug, squeezing tightly. "You've lost weight though, are they feeding you enough at the College? Oh, never mind, it's good to see you again, Onmund."

"It's good to see you, too, Ma. Jevik can suck an egg, though."

"Oh, you boys never change! Now, you never told me who your friend is." She smiled at the khajiit.

"I'm M'rassi of Orcrest." M'rassi twisted her hand in a khajiiti gesture of respectful greeting.

"Olfja White-Scythe. It's nice to meet you. We don't often get visitors, and never khajiit."

"It is good to meet Onmund's sira - mother." M'rassi replied, wiggling her ears in discomfort when she realised she was slipping back into her native speech pattern.

"And how do you know my son? Are you from the College?"

"Yes." Onmund interjected. "Tell me, Ma. Did a courier come by shortly before Old Life?"

"No, not here. Though we heard several got jumped about that time, down by the Battle-Born place. Bandits, or Stormcloaks, probably. Why?"

"I thought so... We sent word... but if he never came... Shor's bones, how do I say this... " Onmund fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, a nervous habit.

"What?" Olfja put her hands on her hips, knowing her boy well enough to recognise that he was terrified. Of what, she didn't know.

"Well... Uh... I... "

"Oh, for the love of Mara! M'rassi is Onmund's wife!" M'rassi blurted, shooting an exasperated look at her husband and curling her tail around his thigh.

"Wife?" Olfja gawked at the two of them before her eyes rolled back and she crumpled to the floor.

"Oh gods, Ma!" Onmund rushed forward, cradling his mother's head.

M'rassi knelt down and helped sit the delirious woman up. At that moment, Jevik walked in carrying another load of wood. He dropped it as soon as he saw the state of his mother, firewood scattering on the floorboards.

"What have you done to her, Onmund!" He bellowed. "If you've hurt her with your fool magic... "

"Of course not, you milk-drinker! She's just fainted, she'll come round in a minute." Onmund stood up to his brother's challenge.

"Milk-drinker! Who're you calling milk-drinker you sorry excuse for a Nord? You wouldn't even know the pointy end of a sword from- "

"Oh yeah? You can't even work a simple healing spell! Who was it that you came bawling to when you fell off the- "

"Fus!" M'rassi Shouted at them, pushing them with the weaker, single-word Thu'um.

Onmund stumbled and fell onto the cluttered table, while Jevik tripped over the dropped firewood and crashed to the floor.

"You Shouted at me?" Onmund groaned, pushing himself away from the table.

"Yes. And I'll do it again if you two don't stop acting like two-year old kits! You're brothers, act like it." M'rassi glared at the pair of them.

"Yes, dear." Onmund replied meekly.

"What in Oblivion was that...?" Jevik growled as Onmund reluctantly helped him up.

"Shouting." Onmund said simply before helping M'rassi lift his mother onto a chair. The older woman was still out cold, and he was beginning to get worried.

"Shouting? Like the Greybeards? Then you're... You're the Thane of Whiterun! M'rassi Dragonborn! Oh gods, forgive me, Thane!" Jevik dropped to his knee.

"Please, get up. That really isn't necessary." M'rassi said, ears back and mouth open slightly in frustrated embarrassment.

"Just go get Pa. We'll look after Ma." Onmund frowned and his brother left. "How is she?"

"Fine, but I'm surprised she hasn't woken yet." M'rassi replied, pressing a hand to the older woman's brow.

Onmund sighed and sank to the table, head resting on his folded arms.

"That... could have gone better... " He said wearily.

"Sorry I Shouted at you." M'rassi apologised.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, I was acting like a fool."

"No argument there." M'rassi jabbed him with a clawed finger.

"Jevik was always the worst. Always teasing and lying. He'd never hit me, he was too smart for that. He got the others to do it... He just... He mellowed after he married Breda and had kids, but as you saw, things are still... "

"You've faced down worse than him, my love. Is he really worth it?"

"No." Onmund admitted.

Olfja stirred, her aged face twisting into a frown as she opened her eyes.

"Ma?" Onmund asked.

"What in Oblivion...?" She croaked.

"You passed out. How are you feeling?"

"A bit dizzy... "

"Here, let me." Onmund reached over to use his magic, but she batted his fingers away.

"I'll be fine, really." She sighed, before looking her son in the eye. "You two are married, then?"

"Yes." Onmund held up his hand, showing the ring. "We married at the Temple of Mara during the New Life Festival. We sent invitations, but as you said, the courier was probably waylaid. Permanently. You would have liked it. We had a few friends come, those that received their invitations anyway. Even the Jarl of Hjaalmarch was there."

"What? First, you tell me you're married. Second, married to a khajiit..."

M'rassi laid her ears back. She was right here, for Alkosh's sake.

"Ma, wasn't to you who told me that it's who a person is that's important, not what they are!" Onmund retorted.

"Now, you're telling me that a Jarl attended your wedding? Onmund, that blasted College has made you go mad!"

Onmund laughed loudly. "Ma, it's all true!"

"It is true. See?" M'rassi held up her own ring.

"Even our circlets were a gift from Jarl Idgrod!" He pointed to the matching gold and emerald bands that adorned their foreheads.

"By the Nine! I just can't believe that my little Onmund is married! The twins have a lot of catching up to do!" She reached over and cuddled her youngest son, Onmund shooting a sheepish look at his wife. M'rassi's amused expression turned to alarm as Olfja leaned over to crush the khajiit to her bosom.

"Your fur is so soft! Are all khajiit like that? It's not rude to ask, is it? I've never talked to a khajiit before. I've seen them, but never talked to one."

"Uh... " M'rassi drawled, dumbfounded.

"Where's Jevik? He was chopping firewood?" Olfja asked.

"I sent him to go get Pa."

"And he went? Willingly? You didn't set that ghost-wolf of yours on him, did you?"

"He was practically tripping over himself once he realised just who M'rassi is." Onmund grinned.

"Oh?" Olfja directed her gaze to the quiet khajiit.

"It is a long story. M'rassi thinks we should wait until the others get here. M'rassi hates repeating herself." M'rassi wiggled her ears in discomfort.

"Agreed." Onmund said quickly. "So, what's been going on around here, Ma?"

"Not much, what with these dragons about. Jevik sent Breda and the children to stay with her parents in town. Safer in the city, I suppose. We heard word that the Jarl has a new Thane. Saved the town from a dragon, apparently." Olfja informed them.

M'rassi shot Onmund a sly grin.

"Not that'll do much good here. What if Rorikstead, Riverwood or even Whitevalley Wash got attacked?"

"Didn't the Jarl send some extra men to Riverwood, at least?" M'rassi asked.

"Aye. But this new Thane is supposed to be Dragonborn and even he can't be in two places at once!"

"What makes you so sure it's a he?" Onmund asked, an amused twinkle in his eye.

"I don't know." Olfja shrugged. "What have you two been studying at the College?"

"I thought you didn't approve of magic?" Onmund queried.

"I can still ask."

"We haven't really spent much time at the College itself. Probably only a week all up." He admitted.

"What? You argued for years, that magic was what you wanted to do and now you're telling me that you've hardly been there in the last few months! What in Oblivion have you been up to?"

"A special assignment for the Arch-Mage. Studying the practical applications of advanced Destruction magic in the field." M'rassi interrupted.

"In Tamrielic?"

"Killing things with magic." M'rassi shrugged.

"What sort of things?" Olfja asked.

"Draugr mostly. Some bandits, Falmer, wild animals. Sometimes all at once. Skeletons are fun." Onmund grinned.

"Draugr? By Shor, you shouldn't be going into those places. Leave our ancestors in peace. And what did you do to your hand? You're missing a finger!" The older Nord prodded her son's hand. Of all her sons, she'd thought Onmund was the one least likely to lose fingers or toes, if only because of his magic.

"We'll tell you about that when the others get here."

The door opened to admit the dog, who immediately started smelling M'rassi, completely ignoring Onmund and Olfja. Jevik was close behind, trailed by three men. Two of them were young, between Jevik and Onmund in age. They had dark hair like Onmund, but there the similarities ended. They each had dark brown eyes, hawkish noses and their mother's narrow chin. They were both long and lean, with calloused hands. These must be the twins, Bulfur and Thorring. Behind them strode Ynglun, Onmund's father. He was a bear of a man in his late-fifties or early-sixties. His hair was dark and he had his son's chin, though it was buried in a plaited beard. He stopped in the doorway when he spotted M'rassi and Onmund seated at the table with his wife.

"Ysmir's beard, Jevik! You really weren't lying." He marched over to the khajiit and held out his hand. "It is an honour, Thane."

"Thane!" Olfja blurted.

"Thank you, but please, I don't like to use my titles. Call me M'rassi."

Everyone in the crowded kitchen started talking at once, barraging both M'rassi and Onmund with questions. Was she really the Thane of Whiterun? Did she really kill that dragon? How on Nirn did Onmund come to travel with her? Was she really Dragonborn? Could she Shout? Was she really married to their little brother?

Onmund came to her rescue when he took a leaf out of Tolfdir's book. He stood up, charged lightning in his hands and clapped, the loud boom deafening in the confined space. It had the desired effect, everyone shut up and gawped at the youngest Nord.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Watch the magic!" Ynglun waved his hands in alarm.

"Please, can we all just sit down!" Onmund said, emphasising the last two words by drawing his chair closer and placing his backside firmly on it. He glared at his family until they did the same. "We'll explain everything! M'rassi, this is more your story than mine..."

M'rassi could have kicked her husband at that point. She shot him a sharp look.

"Very well." She sighed. "I guess it all started when I was ambushed coming over Pale Pass. The Imperial Legion had mistaken me for a Stormcloak... "

And so she told his family the story of how she found out she was Dragonborn, how she met Onmund and being summoned by the Greybeards. She told of Sahloknir and the Blades, Blackreach, the Elder Scroll and their marriage in Riften. They looked stunned when she told them that she, Onmund and the Grandmaster of the Greybeards had fought Alduin himself on the top of the Throat of the World. They looked even more incredulous when she informed them of the peace treaty negotiations and their plan to capture a dragon in the Jarl's palace.

"And that's what we are going to do tomorrow." M'rassi finished.

Everyone remained silent as they digested the information.

"I've heard some pretty fanciful tales in my time, but none of them have come close to this. You're not taking the skooma, are you? How long did you two take to hatch up this little story?' Ynglun asked, clearly disbelieving the whole thing.

"It's not a story, it's the truth!" Onmund spat as M'rassi got up and fished something out of her pack. He knew what she was after.

Keeping it hidden behind her back she stalked back to the table and with a quick motion she pulled it out and stabbed it into the wood. There, as long as Ynglun's forearm, was Paarthurnax's tooth. It gleamed a whitish-orange in the firelight. M'rassi sat back down and looked each and every one in the eye.

"Any questions?" She said simply.

"What is that?" Olfja asked, pointing at the fang embedded in the table.

"Alduin's tooth." M'rassi lied, catching Onmund's minute nod.

"Alduin's... Oh Gods... it's all true, isn't it?" Jevik shot an astonished look at his younger brother.

"So instead of studying at the College, you've been gallivanting around Skyrim, killing dragons? By the Nine, boy!" Olfja just stared.

"Well, killing dragons is a damn sight better than that fool College. I guess deep down, you really are a Nord." Ynglun said gruffly, shooting a glance at his youngest son, who visibly bristled at the gibe.

"Hey! We're still going back to the College when this is all over." M'rassi shot back and Onmund nodded vigorously.

"That's if you don't get yourselves killed tomorrow." Jevik retorted.

"You're more than welcome to join us, if you think you can handle it." Onmund snorted. "Maybe I'll get lucky and the dragon will eat you."

"Oh, now _this_ I've got to see." Jevik smirked.

"Good idea." M'rassi ignored Jevik's smart comment. "With Balgruuf, Irileth, Hrongar and Hadvar we should be able to draw the beast into the trap. Do you reckon Lydia would be up to it?"

"She should be. Last I saw, she was going stir crazy cooped up at home." Onmund chuckled.

"Alright then, if you think you can help, you can come. But remember we need the dragon alive. So you do as I tell you. Got it." M'rassi said firmly.

"Aye, Dragonborn." Jevik said.

"Can we come, too?" asked Thorring, his twin brother grinning beside him.

"Absolutely not." Ynglun growled. "You're needed here. And Jevik, you'd better check in with Breda before you go along with this hair-brained scheme."

"Yes, Pa." The three men answered.

"We're going to head home soon. Feel free to travel with us." Onmund said.

"Aye, Brother." Jevik got up from the table and disappeared down a corridor.

"Since we can't go... before you leave, can you show us a Shout?" Bulfur asked M'rassi.

"I would very much like to see this Thu'um." Ynglun commented, his enthusiasm thinly veiled.

"Sure. Now?" M'rassi asked.

"Please."

Ynglun led them all out to the yard, where they all lined up for the demonstration. M'rassi and Onmund whispered back and forth, trying to decide which Shout to show off.

"All right, just stand back a bit more. You'll like this one!" Onmund waved his family back.

M'rassi squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" She Shouted a jet of flame across the muddy yard, sending the dog running. Her fiery Thu'um wasn't as strong as a dragon, but it was still impressive.

"By the Gods, I've never seen such a thing... "

"You really are Dragonborn then... "

"By the Nine... "

The whole lot of them were staring at M'rassi and Onmund in stunned disbelief. The dog was nowhere to be seen or heard.

"What did I miss?" Jevik asked when he walked out the door, heavy pack in arm.

"The Dragonborn was kind enough show us a Shout." Ynglun told his eldest.

"M'rassi has a name!" She chided, her tail flicking in annoyance.

"Of course... M'rassi Dragonborn." Jevik smiled at her huffed growl. "So, are we off, then?"

"Yes, we'd like to be home by nightfall." Onmund said.

"Well then, let me say this, son. Magic wasn't a bad choice." Ynglun held out his hand.

"Thanks, Pa." Onmund shook. Considering his father's opinion on magic, and the College, it was the closest Onmund would get to an apology.

"If you ever need to send word, leave it with my Housecarl. We'll do the same." M'rassi told Olfja.

"A Khajiit with a Housecarl... I never thought I'd see the day... The madness of the world." She smiled and embraced her feline daughter-in-law. "I know I have reservations with you two using magic, but fighting dragons, that's something I respect. Give those lizards a thrashing for me, eh?"

"Of course, they won't know what hit them!" M'rassi growled menacingly.

"Spoken like a Nord! I think we'll get along just fine!" Olfja said as the twins came out of the house with M'rassi and Onmund's gear.

After a few final farewells, they were off, the khajiit and her husband in the lead. Jevik followed close behind as they trudged up the road to Whiterun, watching the pair as they laughed, joked and teased each other. Ah, to be young and in love. He and Breda had been like that until the birth of their first, a little girl they named Eydis. He looked forward to seeing his family, he'd missed them since sending them to safety in the city, after receiving word of the dragons returning.

It was already dark by the time they wandered into town and M'rassi led them up the cobbled road to Breezehome. A thin tendril of smoke rose from the gap in the roof that served as a chimney and a steady drizzle coated everything in a thin sheen of water.

"This is our house. Come in for a drink if you'd like." M'rassi told Jevik.

"Okay, but only one. I'd like to see Breda and the kids before it gets too late."

"Sure." Onmund nodded as M'rassi pushed the door open.

Inside it was warm and dry, and they could smell a stew bubbling over the fire pit. Meeko was eyeing up the pot, but he happily yipped at the newcomers, taking particular interest in Jevik, the smell of a strange dog was on him.

"Meeko. Down." M'rassi commanded and the hound obeyed, running off up the stairs. To find Lydia, no doubt.

"It suits you, Brother." Jevik smiled.

It did suit Onmund, and his wife, too. There were books everywhere, on shelves, on cabinets, on the large table and even on the floor. The books were all perfectly stacked, largest at the bottom of the piles. All the books in each pile had the same colour covers. All sorts of magical paraphernalia were scattered around, potions, soul gems, staves and alchemical supplies.

"Honour to you, my Thane." Lydia said, tramping down the stairs.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I have a name." M'rassi sighed.

"Of course, Thane." Lydia smirked.

Onmund snorted a laugh when M'rassi flicked her tail in annoyance.

"M'rassi, hello." Hadvar called out from the little side room tucked in an alcove behind the stairs.

"Hadvar! You found the place all right, then?"

"I hope you don't mind, my Thane, but I put him in with the alchemy bench. Will you be staying too? I'm sure we can find room." Lydia raised an eyebrow at Jevik.

"Ah, no. I'm staying somewhere else, Housecarl." He said awkwardly.

"Oh, introductions. Jevik, this is Lydia, and Hadvar. Guys, this is Jevik White-Scythe, my brother." Onmund said and they all shook hands.

"White-Scythe, eh? From Whitevalley Wash?" Hadvar asked, and Jevik grunted an 'Aye.'

"I went there a few times as a boy. I thought Nine-Fingers over there was one of the White-Scythe boys, but I wasn't sure." Hadvar jerked his head at Onmund, who was busy emptying his pack. "I'm from Riverwood, myself."

"You were that rascal that got into the chicken coop, weren't you? The smith's nephew?" Jevik raised an eyebrow.

"You still remember that? I was only eight!" Hadvar laughed.

"I don't remember that!" Onmund cocked his head.

"Of course not you wouldn't, I was only seven. You weren't even out of the crib yet, fool!" Jevik nudged his younger brother's shoulder.

"Please tell me we have some mead." M'rassi asked Lydia, bemused by the three men.

"Of course, though we might need more chairs."

"I'll get the ones from up stairs." Onmund said.

"Here, can you take this up?" M'rassi handed him her khajiiti pack.

"Ugh. So, heavy!" Onmund faked staggering under the weight of the knapsack. He laughed when his wife swatted him with her tail and he took the pack upstairs.

"Please, make yourself at home." M'rassi waved Hadvar and Jevik over to the chairs.

"Catch!" Lydia tossed each of them a bottle of mead, and fetched a pile of bowls.

M'rassi helped Onmund arrange the chairs around the fire pit while Lydia scooped the thick stew into the bowls being passed around.

"You've been busy, then." M'rassi nodded her head at the neatly piled books.

"I had to do something to pass the time." Lydia shrugged.

"What do you do all day?" Onmund asked. "Aside from tossing stones into that blasted vase."

"Read mostly, you two always bring new books when you come home. I must've read a copy of every book in Skyrim, by now! But I've also been working on potions, poisons really. I don't think there's a rat left alive in Whiterun."

"Damn, I was hoping for some fat tasty rats. They make excellent soup." M'rassi smirked.

They all looked shocked until Onmund sniggered.

"Gods, you should see the looks on your faces!" He laughed, breaking the ice.

They all told jokes and tales until Jevik left to go stay with his wife and children. The remaining four walked with him up the road as far as the well. They collected water for a bath and headed home to wash their travel weariness from their bones.

##########

Onmund was reading in bed when M'rassi slipped into the room, having just emptied the tub into the canal down the road, easily done with her magic siphoning the water. Her fur was slightly damp from the rain, but she quickly dried herself of with her magic. She shrugged off her clothing, wriggled under the woven blanket and snaked her arm and tail around his waist. The straw mattress was softer than she remembered, and it smelled like it had been stuffed with sweet-smelling heather. Did Lydia do that?

"What are you reading?" She asked as Onmund slipped a scrap of parchment in the book to mark the page.

"Ar-zeer Tra-jee-jazz-eerie? Is that how you say it?" He showed her the cover. Ahzirr Trajijazaeri. It was the battered copy that she'd brought from Elsweyr.

"Close enough." She smiled.

He put the book on the small bedside table scooted down the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She huddled close, tucking her muzzle into the crook of his neck.

"Worried about tomorrow?" Onmund asked, smiling as each word made her ear flick.

"I just want this to all be over. Go back to the College and study in peace." She sighed.

"Peace? Arch-Mage Aren will have us writing papers on this until we're old and grey." Onmund traced the stripes on M'rassi's shoulder. "Well, greyer."

"I'd welcome it." M'rassi chuckled. "Especially after hiking across all of Skyrim and back. And back again. And a couple more times for good measure! Not to mention out of Elsweyr and across Cyrodiil!"

"It's been fun though, hasn't it? Besides, you'll have to really practice writing your Tamrielic. I don't think many can read Ta'agra."

M'rassi responded to the jest by tickling her husband with the very tips of her claws. His legs shot out and he bit down his pillow to keep from laughing out loud. He turned his fingers on her and soon they were both laying on the ruined bed, covered in straw and dried heather, panting softly as their mirth eased.

"Gods, it seems a long time since I laughed like that." M'rassi chortled softly.

"Our wedding night, maybe?" Onmund replied, tracing the stripes on her furry stomach. "Remember dancing on the table?"

"Oh yes, that was fun. Perhaps when we've defeated Alduin, we can have a party like that at the College!"

"Why go to the College when we can invite everyone up to High Hrothgar! Imagine that! Master Arngeir and the Greybeards... " Onmund dissolved into a fit of stifled giggles.

M'rassi, however, had gone quiet. She rolled onto her side and picked a piece of straw out of Onmund's fringe. Her face was troubled.

"What is it?" He asked, his eyes worried.

"It's just... Paarthurnax and Arngeir have said Alduin fled to Sovngarde. I still don't know if it even exists."

"Don't khajiit believe in an afterlife?"

"The Riddle'Thar says that our souls walk Khenarthi's path to Lles'wer. But I'm not even certain that Lles'wer exists."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you know of the Dreamsleeve?"

"Nothing. What is the Dreamsleeve?"

"According to some of Irorian's books, all mortal souls go to the Dreamsleeve after death. There, souls are stripped of their identity and recycled back to Mundus. That's the simplest explanation. His books went into much greater detail, but most of it escapes me now. Irorian and Ameren used to argue something fierce about the Dreamsleeve and how it fits into Aetherius. Some of the books were even older than Irorian himself, and that old mer was almost five hundred."

"Five hundred years old... Akatosh, that's a long time."

"I remember reading about a Dunmer in Old Morrowind rumoured to be at least four thousand years old. Anyway, my point is, nothing is certain after death. Whether we go to Sovngarde or Lles'wer or the Dreamsleeve or even the realm of a Daedric Prince."

"Guess there's only one way to know then."

"Aye. We have to go to wherever Alduin is hiding and see for ourselves. But anyway, that's enough about death, let's celebrate life while we still have it." M'rassi stretched luxuriously, dragging the tip of a claw gently across his bare chest.

"What did you have in mind?" Onmund asked impishly and he felt his blood grow hot when she got up and straddled his hips.

"Guess... " She smiled coyly and she leaned down and kissed him. She flared her magicka and wove the complicated silencing spell around the room, giving them all the privacy they wanted.

She could smell when he reached out with his own magic, delighting in the thrum running through her heart when they plucked at the threads and twined them. Onmund stroked her head as he traced her jaw with urgent kisses, discovering that M'rassi had not bound her mane after washing it. Whether she did it by design or accident, he didn't care, he relished the feel of the wiry hair between his fingers.

M'rassi ran her fingers up and down his sides and squealed as he wrapped his arms around her hips and sat up, awkwardly moving his legs so he was kneeling on the hard wooden base. Onmund settled his wife on his lap and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He kissed her passionately, tracing her sharp teeth with his tongue before she threw her head back and he started on her neck.

M'rassi's ears and whiskers quivered in delight and she licked his hair in euphoria. There, right there. She shivered as his lips found the spot on her neck that drove her wild. She turned the tables and began to ravish his face with her tongue, enjoying the squeak of pleasure he made when she licked his ear. He pulled his face away from the sensory overload and she caught his lips with hers. With a quick movement she lifted herself up and lowered herself onto him.

"By the Nine!" Onmund whispered, his face frozen in rapture. He wrapped an arm around her back, and using the other to balance, he lowered her onto a thick knot of straw and heather, his amulet tapping her chin.

As their bodies rose and fell, they renewed their assault on each others magicka, the scent of pine and frost, dust and spice filling the small room. Soon M'rassi's breath was coming in ragged pants and moans, and Onmund could tell she was getting close. He buried his face in her neck, looking for that spot she loved. She cried out in Ta'agra as she reached her peak and he let himself go, shuddering with ecstasy and collapsing beside her.

He sent a tendril of magicka sailing to the ward, making sure it was still in place. He really didn't want the others to have heard their shenanigans.

"I'm still holding it." M'rassi smiled beside him, laying an arm over his bare chest.

"Just checking." He chuckled. "You really must teach me that spell one day. It will be useful when we go back to the College... I suppose we'd better remake the bed."

M'rassi laughed as she pulled herself out of the wooden frame. She picked up some of the straw that had fallen out of the box and tossed it at her husband, who was pulling the skewed horse hide off the bed.

"Oi!" He smirked, dropping the hide on the floor and brushing the hay into the wood frame. "We have a dragon to catch tomorrow. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not get eaten because I'm tired." On any other day, he would've thrown it right back, but with what they faced in the morning, it was best to get a good night's rest.

"A fair point." M'rassi agreed, and she dropped the ward.

Together they remade the bed and were soon fast asleep.


	20. The Fallen

**Chapter Twenty: The Fallen.**

"So, what have you found out Farengar?" M'rassi asked.

"Hmm?" Farengar looked up from his paperwork. "Oh yes, you asked me to look at the trap. I've been studying the chronicles of Olaf One-Eye and the dragon Numinex, and I think we've got it all worked out. Come with me."

The court-wizard led the entourage up a flight of steps from the main hall of Dragonsreach to the War Room, where Farengar ushered them through a massive set of steel doors before Hadvar could examine the map on the table. Though the doors was the Grand Porch, a massive chamber open to the elements at the far end. The walls were completely made of stone and even the city banners had been taken down. A good place to trap and keep a dragon.

"See the curved beam?" Farengar pointed to a massive yoke hanging near the ceiling. It was richly carved with intricate Nordic designs. "According to our records, it's made of Valenwood Oak. It was commissioned in the mid-Third-Era to replace-"

"All right, so how does it work?" M'rassi interrupted before Farengar got off topic.

Farengar gave a piercing whistle and one of the guards tugged on a chain hanging from one of the support columns. With a clanking of chains the yoke dropped, hitting the paved floor with a crash. The force of the blow caused two iron arcs to fall from a concealed slot on the wood, swinging down and locking with a clang. This formed a collar that would be big enough to hold even Paarthurnax in, M'rassi guessed.

"By the Nine!" Onmund gasped, a sentiment echoed by his brother.

"Ysmir's beard!" Hadvar looked stunned.

"I don't think I've seen anything quite like that!" Lydia gave a low whistle.

"Yes, it's quite impressive, don't you think?" Farengar grinned smugly at the amazed faces.

"By Alkosh. It's perfect." M'rassi smiled.

"All right, men. Get the trap ready again!" Jarl Balgruuf shouted from behind them. Irileth and Hrongar trailed behind him, watching the soldiers hoist the yoke back into position.

"Ready to do this, Jarl Balgruuf?" M'rassi smiled her triangular khajiit grin.

"As promised, my men stand ready. The great chains are oiled. We wait on your word."

"Let's catch us a dragon, then!" M'rassi grinned devilishly.

"My men know what to do. My city is in your hands." Balgruuf nodded. "You do have a plan for luring a dragon here, yeah?"

"Right, this is what is going to happen." M'rassi raised her voice gaining everyone's attention. "Hadvar, Hrongar and Jevik, you three take the north side. Onmund, Lydia, you two take the south. Balgruuf you join them. Irileth, stay close to Balgruuf." Irileth clicked her tongue, as if she would do anything but protect her Jarl, M'rassi ignored her. "Farengar, I want you out of here. Thank you for figuring out the trap, but we'll take it from here."

"Why?" Farengar asked, confused.

"Because it's a dragon, and I know how excited you can get, and you might do something stupid. Maybe once the dragon is contained-"

"Just go, Farengar." Balgruuf growled when he saw the mage about to protest.

"Hmph!" Farengar Secret-Fire snorted, turned on his heel, and stalked off, muttering about how he never got to do anything exciting.

"Right. Once everyone is in place, I'll call this dragon, Odahviing. Once he comes close enough, I'll use a special Shout to pull him out of the sky. With any luck, he'll land out on the balcony. Now, does everyone have a shield?"

Everyone nodded except Onmund.

"What about him?" Irileth jerked her head at the Nord mage.

"I don't need one." Onmund replied, and the dark elf looked at him in confusion. He just held up his hand, electricity arcing between his fingers.

"The shields are for making noise. When the dragon lands, retreat into the keep, bashing your shields. Make as much noise as you can to draw the dragon in. I'll be Shouting, Onmund will be using magic. When Odahviing is far enough in, Balgruuf will signal his men and spring the trap. Any questions?" M'rassi asked.

"What happens once we've caught this dragon?" Hrongar asked.

"I will speak with him and get him to tell me how to get to Alduin. Any more? No? Good, let's go catch a dragon!"

"Hyya!" The Nords barked a war cry, even Onmund.

Irileth and M'rassi shook their heads, Fool Nords. They all walked out to the balcony, the morning sun barely poking through the thick cloud. It had been raining when they left Breezehome, but M'rassi had Shouted the foul weather away. The stones, however, were still slick with water. A pair of guardsmen had joined them.

"Watch the stones, we don't want anyone falling off Dragonsreach today. Go ahead and call this dragon of yours. We're ready." Balgruuf said.

"Right." Mrassi nodded. She thought about the words, how she could turn them into a Shout. She'd never had to use the Voice like this before, all her other Shouts were designed with a purpose in mind. She drew upon the knowledge of all the dragons she had slain, and soon she'd worked it out. She walked out to the edge of the balcony and place her hands on the stone barrier.

"Od-Ah-Viing!" She Shouted, her Thu'um dissipating harmlessly into the sky. She stood there, watching and listening. Her ears swivelled back and forth and she caught the faint sound of wing beats. They were very faint, just on the edge of her hearing.

Onmund watched her turn her head and prick her ears, listening keenly to something to the southwest. Her tail was held out rigid behind her, ready for a fight. She'd heard something. With a sizzle he brought his hands up, fingers sparking.

A roar sounded, echoing across the tundra. Everyone shifted nervously except the Dragonborn and her husband, who held their ground with steadfast expressions. Jevik glanced at his younger brother with a new respect.

"Hear that?" Jarl Balgruuf asked, his voice oddly thick.

"Dragon." Hadvar growled, his face hard.

"Southwest. Here he comes!" M'rassi yelled.

A dragon sailed into view, roaring loudly. He had burgundy scales and his wings were a pale grey striped with violet. He banked hard left and dived at the balcony, talons outstretched.

"Move!" M'rassi bellowed and everyone dived into cover.

A guardsman shrieked as Odahviing snatched him up and tore him in half, the two pieces falling to the city below. Odahviing made a low pass over the city, and the townspeople began to scream, taking refuge in their comparatively flimsy houses.

"By the Nine!" Jevik yelped.

"Come on, you jekosiit, get back here!" M'rassi growled.

Odahviing started to dive again.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" M'rassi shouted at him as he swooped low and his scales started to glow a deep blue-violet.

Odahviing pulled around, keening his anguish as the concept of mortality was impressed on his mind.

"Steady! Steady, now! Keep under cover until it's down!" Balgruuf roared.

"Positions!" M'rassi bellowed at Jevik, Hadvar and Hrongar, the three men had frozen.

The two groups split up and M'rassi backed into the massive chamber, the others flanking her. Odahviing landed heavily on the porch, his tail smashing the balustrade. The great slabs of stone fell away, trailing dust.

"Od-Ah-Viing!" M'assi Shouted and the red dragon fixed his malevolent gaze on her.

"Now!" Onmund bellowed and he started to clap his lightning charged hands. All the men drew their swords.

"Get back! Get back! We need to trap it, not kill it!" Balgruuf yelled.

Balgruuf, Irileth, Hadvar, Jevik and Hrongar all started to beat on their shields with the pommels of their swords. Step by step they all retreated into the cavern, drawing Odahviing into the building.

"Yol!" Odahviing reared his head.

"Move!" The khajiit yelped.

"Toor-Shul!" Odahviing spewed a torrent of fire into the cavernous chamber.

M'rassi picked herself up from the ground, spotting Hadvar helping Jevik up. "Come on!" She snarled at the great red dragon. "Fus!" She Shouted, pushing Odahviing's head away from Irileth.

Odahviing swung his head around and lurched toward her. Beside her, Hrongar was battering his shield and Onmund was clapping his sparking hands. The rest of the groups ran up to the far end of the chamber, keeping up the noise. M'rassi backed up faster, drawing Odahviing further into the cavern.

Balgruuf gave a piercing whistle. The wooden yoke came down, but the Jarl had been a moment too soon. The wood came down on the dragon's neck, but one of the curved iron struts caught on Odahviing's horns and wouldn't lock.

"Oh shit!" M'rassi hissed and rushed forward. She leapt onto the dragon's face and clambered onto the wooden yoke.

Onmund saw what she was trying to do and he ran forward, ramming his shoulder into the dragon's neck. The horn slipped through and M'rassi slammed her foot onto the strut. It slid down and the lock snapped shut. Odahviing heaved his shoulders and the yoke shifted, lifting off the ground. M'rassi latched onto the wood, her claws gouging tracks across the grain as the beam bucked and jumped below her.

"Gods! Someone get the other end!" Onmund shouted as he bolted to one end of the yoke. He grabbed a spoke on the massive axel holding the lower chain and yanked down.

Balgruuf, Irileth and Hadvar had joined him, and the four of them wound the wheel, winching the beam back down. Irileth slid a thick column of hard ebony into a slot once the beam was down to secure it. They looked over and saw Jevik, Hrongar and Lydia wrestling with the other end, Odahviing twisting and snapping his fangs.

The red dragon scrabbled at the stone floor with his great talons, scoring deep rents in the rock. He twisted his head back and forth, flapping his wings to try and escape, but it was no use, he was trapped.

"Nid!" The massive dragon wailed, slumping as the fight left him.

"I think it's holding!" Hrongar hissed.

"We got him?" M'rassi asked, disengaging her claws from the wood.

"We got him!" Onmund confirmed.

M'rassi jumped down from her perch into the waiting arms of her husband.

"I can't believe that worked! You'll be the toast of Whiterun for this!" Jarl Balgruuf grinned, his voice manic.

"By the Gods, you actually did it!" Hadvar gaped.

"Not without help. Thank you, everyone. Drinks are on me at the Mare tonight!" M'rassi grinned, bumping fists with Onmund.

"I'll hold you to that, Dragonborn." Irileth smiled with a twinkle in her red eyes.

"Now, to business." M'rassi turned and face the burgundy scaled brute. Odahviing's reptilian eyes were fixed on the stone floor.

"Horvutah med kodaav. Caught like a bear in a trap... " Odahviing murmured, his draconian voice still loud in the silence. He twisted his head to regard the khajiit standing before him. "Zok frini grind ko grah drun viiki, Dovahkiin." When M'rassi did not answer, Odahviing huffed. "Ah. I forget. You do not have the dovah speech. My... eagerness to meet you in battle was my... undoing, Dovahkiin. I salute your, hmm, low cunning in devising such a grahmindol - stratagem."

"Low cunning?" M'rassi snorted in amusement as Onmund joined her side.

"And this must be the Krilot Mey. The Valiant Fool who blindly follows the Dovahkiin on her quest. He the Old One calls Fahdon." Odahviing snorted at the Nord.

"That's right. Onmund Nine-Fingers." Onmund folded his arms and glared at the dragon defiantly.

Odahviing huffed his mirth and returned his scrutinising gaze to M'rassi. "Zu'u bonaar. You went to a great deal of trouble to put me in this... humiliating position. Hind siiv Alduin, hmm? No doubt you want to know where to find Alduin?"

"That's right. Where is he hiding?" M'rassi adopted a similar pose to her husband, folding her arms and slowly swishing her tail. She had one ear fixed on Odahviing and the other on the nervous shuffled of the group behind her.

"Rinik vazah. An apt phrase. Alduin bovul. One reason I came here was to test your Thu'um for myself." Odahviing coughed, a loud hacking sound. He twisted his neck in the collar, easing some of the pressure on his throat. "Many of us have begun to question Alduin's lordship, whether his Thu'um was truly the strongest. Among ourselves, of course. Mu ni meyye. None were yet ready to openly defy him."

"You were telling me where to find Alduin?" M'rassi flicked her tail.

"Unslaad krosis. Innumerable pardons. I digress." Odahviing even looked apologetic. Well, as apologetic as a dragon could be, his snout dropped several inches and he looked up from beneath the bony ridges above his black eyes. "He has travelled to Sovngarde to regain his strength, devouring the sillesejoor... the souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards... " He almost spat the last part. "His door to Sovngarde is at Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. Mindoraan, pah ok middovahhe lahvraan til. I surely do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshalled there."

"I know." M'rassi replied, the thought filled her with dread.

"Zu'u lost ofan hin laan... now that I have answered your question, you will allow me to go free?" Odahviing asked, his voice hopeful.

"Not bloody likely." Someone muttered from behind them, though the voice was too low for M'rassi to tell who it was.

She honestly had not thought about what she would do with the dragon once she'd got what she needed. She twitched her whiskers when she got an idea.

"Do you promise to serve me?" She asked boldly.

"Aam? Serve you?... no. Nid tiid. If and when you defeat Alduin I will reconsider."

"Worth a try." M'rassi shrugged when she saw Onmund's shocked expression.

"Hmm... krosis. There is one... detail about Skuldafn I neglected to mention." The great red dragon rumbled.

"And what might that be?" Onmund asked sarcastically, shifting his weight to his other foot.

"Only this." Odahviing shot a quick glance at the Nord. "You may have the Thu'um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course... I could fly you there. But not while imprisoned like this."

"It seems like we are at an impasse, then." M'rassi said simply.

"Indeed." Odahviing rumbled. "Orin brit ro. I cannot leave until you defeat Alduin, which you cannot do without my help."

"Onikaan ni ov dovah. It is always wise to mistrust a dovah. How can I trust you?" M'rassi asked, quoting Paarthurnax.

"Zu'u ni tahrodiis. It was you that lured me here and took me prisoner... vobalaan grahmindol. I have done nothing to earn your distrust." Odahviing snapped his teeth shut, resenting the question.

"You did try to trick her into letting you go." Onmund spat.

"Hin aar, orin nu. And yet here I am, still your prisoner."

M'rassi turned her back on the great dragon and walked over to her friends.

"I don't like this, not one bit." Onmund sighed. "But he has a point."

"I know, but you heard Paarthurnax." M'rassi countered.

Everyone started talking at once. They really trapped a dragon. Where was this Skuldafn? How did she summon the courage to talk to the dragon? Was she really going to fly to Skuldafn on this dragon's back?

"What's going on, Dragonborn? Do you trust this dragon?" Balgruuf asked loudly, overruling all the other voices.

M'rassi twitched her ears and whiskers, and flicked her tail. She'd decided.

"I have to." She said. "It's the only way to get to Alduin."

"Right." Balgruuf grunted.

M'rassi walked back over to Odahviing, who was licking his teeth with his massive tongue. He stopped and looked up when he spotted her.

"You have reconsidered my offer, hmm? Onikaan kron?" He growled. "You will release me - ro laan - if in return I promise to take you to Skuldafn and stop helping Alduin?"

"Yes, I'll let you go and you can take me to Skuldafn." M'rassi told him.

"Onikaan koraav gein miraad. It is wise to recognize when you have only one choice. And you can trust me. Zu'u ni tahrodiis. Alduin has proven himself unworthy to rule. I go my own way now." Odahviing rumbled loudly. "Free me, and I will carry you to Skuldafn... Ah. Krosis. I cannot take you, Krilot Mey. Skuldafn is only for the dov and dovah sos. You must stay here."

"What!" M'rassi blurted.

"Now wait one gods-damned minute!" Onmund growled angrily.

Neither of them had anticipated this. The dragon was refusing to take Onmund, M'rassi would have to face Alduin alone.

"So be it." M'rassi said reluctantly, remembering what the Elder Scroll had revealed to her. The end of the path was for her alone.

"You can't be serious?" Onmund took his wife's shoulders. "Shor's blood, M'rassi! Are you crazy?"

"No. You didn't see what the Scroll revealed to me. I cannot guarantee you'll return even if Alduin is defeated. Since all this is written on the Elder Scrolls, maybe, just maybe, I'll come back."

"Vahzah. She speaks true. Only the Dovahkiin was part of this qostiid - Prophesy. Only the Dovahkiin may pass into Sovngarde and return."

Onmund scrunched his face and paced back and forth before Odahviing's snout. M'rassi watched him with a look of anguish on her face. She didn't like this anymore than he did.

"Remember Blackreach?" She asked.

Onmund stopped his pacing to look at her, expression despondent.

"We survived down there, alone. We took down Falmer, Dwemer automatons and chaurus' alone. I even took down a dragon, _by myself_, one almost as old as Paarthurnax. I can do this, I _must_ do this."

Onmund sighed and rolled his shoulders. "All right." He groaned. "I don't like it, but if it must be, it must be." M'rassi stroked his face and he took her into his arms. "Just, promise me you'll come back." He whispered into her ear.

"I promise." She murmured back, her whiskers tickling his cheek. She flicked her tongue out and gave his ear a quick lick, enjoying the way he pulled back, his face burning.

"Right." M'rassi turned to those gathered. "Lydia, I'll need my potions and anorak. Don't worry about anything else. Well, maybe a few lockpicks."

"On it, my Thane." Lydia disappeared into the keep.

"Right. So the plan is this. I'm going to let Odahviing go, and he's going to fly me to Skuldafn, so I can go into Sovngarde and fight Alduin. If I'm successful, then make sure the Honningbrew Meadery sends all the casks they can, because it will be one hell of a party. If I fail, have a party anyway, and show Alduin just what you thick-skulled Nords are capable of!"

"Hyah!" The men all shouted.

"Incredible!" Said a familiar voice.

Farengar had ventured back out of the keep, having heard of the success. He was heading right for Odahviing.

"Oooh, now _this_ I've got to see." M'rassi grinned.

Onmund, Hrongar, Irileth and Jarl Balgruuf snorted behind her. Hadvar and Jevik just exchanged confused glances.

"Uh... sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for such and opportunity!" Farengar addressed the red dragon, who twisted his long head around to peer at the mage.

"Sir!" M'rassi snickered to Onmund.

"I would be most appreciative if you would permit me to perform some, ah, tests on you. Purely in the interests in the advancement of knowledge."

"Begone, mage. Do not test my promise to the Dovahkiin!" Odahviing commanded, baring his teeth.

"I assure you, you will not even notice me. Most of them are hardly painful to a large dragon such as yourself." Farengar began to walk around the trap.

"Farengar, that's a very bad idea. Even for you." Irileth cautioned.

"Surely you wouldn't miss a few scales... or a small amount of blood... " Farengar said from out of sight.

Odahviing flicked his wing when the mage touched it. "Joor mey! What are you doing back there?" He growled and flicked his wing again. "Yol-Toor-Shul!" The great red dragon twisted his head upward and Shouted a plume of flame at the ceiling.

Everyone dived into cover except M'rassi and Onmund, who stood their ground. Farengar leapt away from the dragon and fled, terror on his face. As he tore past them and out the door, M'rassi and Onmund cracked up laughing, their guffaws echoing throughout the chamber. They laughed and laughed, and the others joined in until they ran out of breath, tears streaming down their faces.

"That was worth it." Onmund bumped fists with his wife.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I didn't let Farengar help with the actual trapping!" M'rassi grinned.

"Ysmir's beard, I've never seen anything else so hilarious." Balgruuf wheezed.

"We should go find Nelkir!" Hrongar breathed, eyes sparkling.

"Haha! It's bad enough you threaten to feed him to the Dragonborn, but you're not feeding my children to an _actual_ dragon, Brother!" The Jarl retorted, though he would be amused to see what his offspring thought of the confined dragon.

"What did I miss?" Lydia asked when she came through the door carrying M'rassi's knapsack. "That fool court-wizard was tearing though the keep like his arse was on fire."

Hrongar quickly explained to Lydia, while M'rassi pulled her thick anorak over her robes. She figured that flying on a dragon's back would be very cold.

"All right. Release the trap!" M'rassi shouted up to the guard who had sprung it.

"You sure about that?" He called back down. "You want to let that dragon loose after all the trouble to catch him in there?"

"Yes." M'rassi replied.

"Your funeral. Someone else is gonna have to help you get him back in there again. Get ready to open the trap! This seems like a really bad idea... "

"Carry on, soldier. This is all part of the Dragonborn's plan." Balgruuf reassured him.

Hadvar and Irileth removed the pegs from the wheels, Onmund released the collar, the guardsman pulled on the chain and the wooden yoke began to rise. Odahviing shook himself once the beam lifted off him, sending dust flying in all directions.

"By all the gods!" Irileth swore.

"Faas nu, zini dein ruthi ahst vaal." Odahviing stretch his great neck and started to pull himself around. He loped to the balcony where he sat back on his haunches, very much like Paarthurnax, waiting for M'rassi. Everyone followed him out to the sunlight, but Odahviing kept his eyes fixed on the Dragonborn.

"Well, this is it." M'rassi muttered to Onmund.

"Take this. It might bring you luck, it might not. But I'll rest easier knowing you have it." Onmund fished his amulet out from his shirt and placed it around her neck.

"Thank you, love."

"And my bow, too. Just in case." Onmund unclipped his quiver and helped M'rassi fasten both it and the weapon on her back.

"Anything else?" M'rassi asked, here ears wiggling with amusement.

"Oh. Yes." The Nord mage pulled out a jar of moon sugar from his pocket. "Try not to lose it this time! It's expensive, M'rassi Half-Tail!"

"Yes, sir!" M'rassi teased, swatting him with the shortened appendage.

He reached out and cupped her muzzle, kissing her sweetly, for what could well be the last time. M'rassi knew it too, and she curled her shortened tail around his waist, not wanting to let him go.

"Now, go kick Alduin's scaly backside for me!" He grinned.

"For you, my love, I would Shout the moons themselves out of the sky." She replied and turned to Odahviing.

"Saraan uth - I await your command, as promised. Are you ready to see the world as only a dovah can?" Odahviing rumbled to her.

"Yes. Take me to Skuldafn." M'rassi said, firmly.

"Zok brit uth! I warn you, once you've flown the skies of Keizaal, your envy of the dov will only increase." Odahviing lowered his head and M'rassi climbed onto his neck.

She grabbed onto his horns and wrapped her tail around one of his neck spikes. Gods, she hoped she could hold on.

"You're either the bravest person I've ever met, or the biggest fool!" Irileth said in a hushed tone.

"May Kynareth watch over you as you pass through her realm!" Balgruuf smiled as Odahviing sat up. The rest repeated similar sentiments.

Onmund stepped close and put a hand on M'rassi's boot. "Khenarthi guide you, love."

She snaked her tail down to brush it against his hand.

"And Shor, you, dear." M'rassi nodded.

Odahviing stepped up to the broken balustrade and opened his wings wide, showing off the pale grey and violet scales. His wings took up the entire opening of the Grand Porch.

"Amativ! Mu bo kotin stinselok!" Odahviing bellowed as he launched himself from the Grand Porch, his wing beats forcing the men and mer to retreat.

Onmund watched as the mighty dragon bore his love away with great strokes of his wings. He leaned against the stone and watched them get smaller and smaller, until they faded from sight.

"You really think she can do it?" Jevik asked from behind him.

"You don't know her like I do, Brother. If anyone can bring down Alduin, it is _her_." Onmund said, his voice showing his conviction. "I believe in her." He never took his eyes from the sky.

"As do I." Hadvar replied.

"As do we all." Jarl Balgruuf affirmed.

Jevik nodded silently, studying his younger brother for the first time in many years, seeing through the magic to the man that lay beneath. Onmund had grown into a man that Jevik was proud to call brother. He certainly wasn't the naive little mageling who'd left the farm in a huff, some six months before, vowing to never return. Onmund was more worldly, more confident, more mature, and more than a little wiser than he used to be. The Dragonborn had been good for him.

A woman began to sing in a rich clear voice, and when Onmund turned, he was surprised to find it was Lydia, M'rassi's Housecarl. One by one the others began to sing too, a song of hope and courage. Onmund joined in, wondering just what M'rassi would think of the song. Knowing her, she'd be both amused and embarrassed about it. So he sang with a smile on his face, thinking of all the times he'd teased her about being what she was.

The Dragonborn of Legend.

_"Our hero, Our hero, claims a warrior's heart._

_I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes._

_With a Voice-wielding power of the Ancient Nord art._

_Believe, Believe, the Dragonborn comes._

_It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes._

_Beware, Beware, the Dragonborn comes._

_For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows._

_You'll know, You'll know, the Dragonborn's come."_

When the song ended Onmund turned back to the sky. "Walk on warm sands, my love." He whispered.


	21. The World Eater's Eyrie

**Chapter Twenty One: The World-Eater's Eyrie.**

M'rassi was glad she was wearing her anorak. She wrapped her scarf around her nose to ward off the biting cold, similar to the way she used to protect herself from stinging sand back in Elsweyr. The wind was icy as she sailed through the skies of Tamriel, perilously perched on Odahviing's spiny neck.

The great red dragon was right, she was jealous of the dov, and with each mile they flew, her envy rose. It was magnificent to fly through the sky, completely free to go anywhere, do anything and see everything. Watching the landscape pass by below her, she marvelled at how fast flying was compared to walking. Within hours, they'd crossed both Whiterun and Eastmarch Holds and were flying into the foothills of the Velothi Mountains, a trip that would normally take several days. The mountains swiftly rose to craggy peaks covered in snow. Odahviing flew higher and higher until he crested the mountain range.

Below, M'rassi could see a temple hidden in a bowl-like valley, surrounded by sheer cliffs on all sides. Odahviing was right again, she'd never have made it on foot. The Temple itself was a three tiered structure built in the same style as the ancient barrows that dotted Skyrim. She counted no fewer than four dragons lounging about, sunning themselves on the ramparts. M'rassi suspected there were more nearby. One of them roared a challenge as Odahviing flew overhead.

Odahviing trumpeted back, and the dragon acquiesced. Evidently word of Odahviing's defection had not yet spread around the dov. He spied his old lounging place and dived. He flared his wings and felt the Dovahkiin grip his neck tighter. He landed on the stones heavily, flapping his wings to stabilise himself. He leaned forward and bent his head to the ground.

M'rassi slid down off his neck, snagging her knapsack on one of his spines. Her legs felt weak and stiff, like she'd been riding a horse all day. She stretched them out and shook them, hoping the pain would soon disappear. She looked up at the temple and she spied Draugr stalking the walls.

Odahviing backed off a little, swinging his head around to address her.

"This is as far as I can take you. Krif voth ahkrin. I will look for your return, or Alduin's."

"Thank you, Odahviing. I will return. Zu vaat daar. I swear this." M'rassi bowed to him.

"Pruzah, Dovahkiin." Odahviing raised his wings and M'rassi backed away. The dragon leapt up and pushed down with his wings, launching himself into the air. With a roar he flew up and over the lip of the mountain, heading west, back the way they'd come.

M'rassi studied the temple she was supposed to fight her way through alone. She guessed Alduin's portal to Sovngarde was on the top, though she hadn't got a good look from Odahviing's back. Four dragons, at least a dozen Draugr... She needed a plan. Tail lashing, she paced up and down the stone ledge, wracking her brain for ideas.

Storm Call. She'd learned the first two words of the Shout before going to Blackreach. The Shout summoned all the power of a Skyrim thunderstorm, pouring rain, booming thunder and deadly lightning. The Thu'um rained sparking destruction on friend and foe alike. It was very, very dangerous. Testing it out had almost killed Onmund, and M'rassi had not used it since. But Onmund was not here, and by now Odahviing should be far enough away.

"Strun-Bah!" M'rassi Shouted to the heavens.

Immediately the sky turned dark as great thunderclouds appeared. The flood gates opened and the rain came tumbling down. With a flash of light and a crash of thunder, a bolt of lightning cascaded from the whirling clouds, striking one of the dragons gazing at the maelstrom in confusion. The Shout was almost like Alduin's flaming rock Thu'um, only with rain and electricity.

M'rassi snarled as the thunder-struck dragon howled in fury and launched himself from the ramparts at her. She dived into an archway as the dragon sailed overhead and pulled around in a tight loop to land in the same spot as Odahviing. With a savage roar, she leapt out from the archway and poured the strongest lightning spell she had into the dragon. After two bolts the dragon perished, slumping to the stones with a howl.

Panting heavily, M'rassi waited as the dragon's soul flowed into her. Gods, that spell took a lot out of her, her magicka was drained completely. But it was regenerating faster than usual and M'rassi thanked her lucky stars that she'd enchanted each of her earrings. The simple enchantment helped bolster her magicka reserves and made them fill up faster. She even had her gold and emerald circlet enchanted to make her destruction magic easier to cast. Onmund wore a matching one, the pair had been a wedding gift from Jarl Idgrod. But even still, something else was aiding her. She pulled out her husband's amulet and examined it.

Sure enough, the silver medallion, stamped with a sheaf of wheat and a scythe, carried a powerful enchantment; one that was beyond either of their abilities. He must have got Sergius Turrianus to enchant it while they were back at the College, before Blackreach. It certainly had not carried the enchantment when she'd intimidated Enthir for it, all those months ago. No wonder Onmund had given it to her.

Silently thanking her husband, M'rassi licked the rain water from the amulet and slipped it back down beneath her soggy clothes. She dashed across a narrow bridge in the torrential rain her Thu'um had summoned, her leather boots kicking up great splashes of water.

She tossed a fireball at a Draugr archer that was firing off arrow after arrow, sending him flying off into another of the undead creatures. With a crack of thunder, the storm dropped a massive lightning bolt on the pair of them, reducing them to ash.

She loped along a narrow road looking for a way into the bastion and was surprised by a Draugr that stepped out from behind a fallen tree. Three quick fireballs later, the desiccated corpse fell and M'rassi carried on her way.

She went up a broad flight of stairs and ran into more Draugr. Ducking and dodging their spells, she skidded across the slick stones and Shouted.

"Iis-Slen!"

The Draugr were encased in a slab of ice and M'rassi gave it a shove. The ice slid down the gentle slope and into the lake forming in the bottom of the valley.

M'rassi dashed along the outer wall of the fort, the rain soaking her to the bone. She came up to a large plaza and heard a low growl. Panicking, M'rassi dove forward, rolled in a puddle and scrambled to her feet.

A dragon Shouted a jet of flame where she'd been running. She whipped around as the great lizard's jaws snapped shut, and charged at it's wing. With her claws punching holes in the thin membrane, she dragged herself up onto the dragons back. She grabbed one of the spines that ran along it's spine and poured electricity into its body. The dragon shook its massive body, and M'rassi was thrown off. She landed on her feet, tail lashing, sending water flying in all directions.

"Skuldafn fen kos dinok!" The dragon roared as it launched itself from the stone plaza.

"Get back here, dragon! Coward!" M'rassi roared her challenge after it.

She howled in pain as an arrow hit her in her arm. A Draugr was standing on the next tier up, lining up another shot. With one hand she flung a spear of ice at the undead Nord, impaling him and sending him flying off. M'rassi didn't see where he landed, she was in too much pain. Sticking the strap of her small apothecary satchel between her jaws, she snapped off the fletched butt and pulled the arrow through her arm. The arrow had gone between the bones of her forearm, which was lucky, but blood poured from the wound. With her free hand, M'rassi wrapped her woollen scarf around her arm, and fished a healing potion from her pack.

A crack of thunder sounded alarmingly close by, and M'rassi saw a bolt of lightning arc down to incinerate a Draugr that had been running down the stairs right at her. The Draugr's sword fell to the base of the stairs, landing in a puddle with a soft splash. Lucky.

M'rassi hissed as she pulled the scarf away from her arm, peeled back her sleeve, and she poured the potion directly onto the wound. Her arm immediately went numb, and M'rassi worked her healing spell to close the injury. The golden threads of her magic melted the skin together, leaving a small scar.

Without warning, the second dragon returned, slamming to the plaza right behind her. M'rassi staggered as the ground quivered, and with her good hand she flung a spear of ice at the dragon, but missed. With a snarl, she dove under the dragon and shot another ice spear directly into it's soft belly.

"Wuld!" She Shouted before the dragon could crash to the ground on top of her, and she zipped to the bottom of the stairs.

The serpent howled in anguish as it's own weight forced the column of ice deeper into it's body. Thick red blood poured from the wound, mixing with the rainwater. M'rassi stepped in close and slit the dragon's throat, putting it out of it's misery.

As the dragon's soul flowed into her, she sank to a crouch, one hand on the ground, and the other clutching her stomach. Her arm was still numb from the potion, and because she'd only had enough time to heal the skin of her arm, the muscle beneath still had a hole in it. Her fingers only had enough strength left in them to grab the pocket of her anorak. It would take time before she could use the arm again, so she resolved to find someplace to wait for the potion's effects to wear off, and complete her healing. With her eyes narrowed, ears back, and tail lashing, M'rassi surveyed the plaza. She spotted her apothecary satchel laying in a pool of water, which was growing larger by the minute. She snatched up the small leather pouch, it's strap was broken, sheared through by her sharp fangs.

She jogged away from the remains of the dragon and collapsed to the ground in the lee of a large column. For now, she was out of the rain, and there didn't seem to be any Draugr close by, so she examined her numb arm. Although her arm appeared healed, she knew the flesh beneath the surface was still damaged. She focussed her magicka and worked on repairing the injury.

M'rassi fished out a stamina potion from her pack, she was very tired from the fight with the two dragons. She didn't have many of the energising potions, something both she and Lydia had overlooked. Her arm started to tingle as the feeling came back into it, and she stretched it to help the blood flow better. Once she could use it again, she tied the sheared strap of her apothecary satchel around her waist.

With the stamina brew coursing through her veins, M'rassi pushed herself out from her dry spot, and back out into the rain. She slipped a magicka potion into her pocket, just in case she needed it later, and she ran up the stairs.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" She Shouted at a Draugr as she crested the top. Her Thu'um went wide and the Draugr staggered briefly, then advanced again. "Aiiish!" M'rassi swore, conjuring a ghostly sword, the pale weapon as deadly as any steel one. She brought it up in time to block a blow from the Draugr.

"Dir volaan!" The Draugr rasped.

"I don't think so!" M'rassi growled, using her free hand to weave a spell to turn her skin as hard as stone. With a savage snarl, she charged at the undead Nord. She brought down her pale sword, missing the Draugr as it twisted aside at the last second. Unused to a large blade, conjured or otherwise, M'rassi stumbled, then slipped on the stones. Somehow, she managed to keep a hold on her sword.

She leaped up and feinted as the Draugr came at her, landing a blow with took the creature's left arm clean off. The Draugr didn't even notice the loss of it's limb, whirling around on the rain-slick pavestones to bash M'rassi with it's shield. The shield struck her between her shoulders and she fell to the ground, dropping the sword, which dissipated the moment it left her fingers. M'rassi quickly rolled over and readied a fireball, but before she could loose it a bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky, incinerating her opponent with a loud report.

"Khenarthi, that was close!" She huffed, panting heavily. Her fur was trying to stand on end with the residual charge in the air, but the heavy rain slicked it back down again. She heard an arrow clatter on the stones beside her and she spied a Draugr at the top of a large flight of stairs leading up to the temple proper. She flung a bolt of electricity at it and the Draugr flew back out of sight.

M'rassi dashed up the stairs, and did a fast head count of the Draugr stalking the ramparts. There were nine left. The storm still raging must have taken care of the rest. They all knew she was there, and she ducked as half a dozen arrows skittered across the wet flagstones around her. M'rassi clutched a fistful of lightning and peeked out from cover. She loosed the electricity and jerked back behind the column as her spell arced from one Draugr to two more. Six.

With a savage cry she burst from her hiding place, tossed a lightning bolt at the nearest Draugr. The undead Nord staggered, and M'rassi leapt at him, wrenching his sword from his desiccated fingers and cleaving his head from his shoulders with it. Five.

"Aav dilon!" Shouted another, flinging an ice spear at her.

M'rassi blocked it with a Ward, countering with a gout of flame. The Draugr laughed hoarsely as the torrential downpour extinguished the flames. The laugh was cut short when lightning plunged from the maelstrom into the mummified corpse. For an instant M'rassi could see the creatures very bones before even they turned into ash. She dived behind another slab of stone, slowly making her way toward the Temple proper. Four.

"Zul-Mey-Gut!" M'rassi whispered the Thu'um.

"Hey jekosiit!" Came her disembodied voice, from somewhere further around the building. With any luck, the Draugr would fall for the trick. M'rassi peeked from her hiding space, watching as two of the Draugr sauntered off in the direction her Shout had come from. Good enough.

Keeping low, M'rassi edged along the slab as the two remaining Draugr fired arrow after arrow at her. The projectiles bounced harmlessly off the wall. She listened carefully, and when she heard the sound of a sword being drawn, she vaulted over the wall, conjuring her own magical sword as she went. Surprised, the Draugr whipped around, but not fast enough as M'rassi kicked its leg out from underneath it. The undead Nord went down like a sack of potatoes and M'rassi leapt on him, lopping off his head with the razor sharp ethereal blade.

The second Draugr charged at her and she parried his blow with her ghostly sword. Using her free hand, she grabbed the Draugr's arm and poured raw magicka into the creature. The Draugr screeched as she lunged in close, closed her teeth on his throat and with a savage shake, she tore out his throat. The Draugr laughed silently as M'rassi jumped back, spitting out the mummified flesh in disgust. She should have known that a normally fatal injury would not stop something already dead.

"Faas! Pook! Dinok!" The Draugr whispered the taunt before it dove at her in a frenzy of flashing blades.

"Feim!" She yelped, and the sword passed through her ethereal body. Focussing her magicka, she formed a spear of ice in her hands and tried to use it to sweep the Draugr's feet from beneath it. The undead Nord jumped the column of ice and punched her in chest. M'rassi rolled her shoulder, deflecting most of the force of the blow, using the motion to flick out the end of her ice-spear, catching the Draugr beneath his withered chin. It was an old trick she'd picked up on the streets of Orcrest. Mustering all her strength, she pushed on the spear, forcing the Draugr back to the wall of Skuldafn Temple. Pinned, the Draugr tried to struggle, but M'rassi channelled electricity down the spear and into the Draugr.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!"

A Thu'um slammed into M'rassi from the side. She sailed across the terrace, slamming into the stone and rolling over and over. She tried to push herself up, but collapsed. Her arm was fractured, and trust her luck, it was the same one that she'd pulled the arrow from. With a cuss she hoisted herself to her feet with one hand and her short tail, hastily unbuttoned her anorak and tucked the injured arm into her robes.

The two remaining Draugr were closing, fast. M'rassi threw a hasty Frost Rune on the ground, turned, and ran. Her boots were soaked through, and the rain continued to pour down. She heard the Frost Rune explode behind her, the undead Nord torn apart by jagged shards of ice. M'rassi kept running, right at the Temple doors. If she could just make it. Something slammed into her wounded shoulder and she went down with a yelp, twisting her ankle. She heard the arrow shaft snap as she hit the stones.

"Aav dilon!" The Draugr taunted, and M'rassi's keen ears picked up the sound of a bowstring being drawn.

Twisting around as fast as she could, she gave a mighty Shout. "Fus-Ro-Dah!"

Her Thu'um hit the Draugr with the force of a rampaging mammoth and the creature shot back and out over the void. He never even hit the ground. With a loud crash, lightning forked down and incinerated the creature.

Breathing heavily in the rain, M'rassi collapsed to the stone in exhaustion. She was in a bad way. Her arm was broken, and the same shoulder had half an arrow jutting from it. Her foot was sore and her fingers ached from the amount of magicka that had coursed through them in such a short amount of time. Her eyes watered in pain, and she winced when she touched the broken arrow shaft. Grunting in pain, she shuffled as best she could and leaned against the Temple door, taking care to not jerk her arm or shoulder. Onmund's bow and quiver were digging painfully into her back, but they were as nothing compared to her arm.

Carefully, she reached into her pack and fished around for a potion. Judging by the amount of broken glass she found, and the soupy liquid dripping through the cloth of her sack, many of the potion bottles had shattered when that Draugr blindsided her with his Thu'um. A waste.

Using her teeth to uncork the bottle, she carefully poured the potion onto the arrow wound, and down her arm to the break. Hissing and snarling in pain, she gently rubbed the potion into her fur and skin. Slowly her whole arm became numb. Grabbing the hem of her robes, she balled them up and stuffed it into her mouth.

She had to get the arrow out first, and healing the wound afterward would not be easy. She'd suffered arrow wounds before, but Onmund had always on hand to heal her, knowing full well that healing required concentration, something that was difficult to achieve looking like a pincushion. And now she was alone. Seriously injured and alone. She'd been too over confident and reckless, and now she was paying the price.

Clamping down with her sharp teeth, she fingered the arrow shaft. The barbed tip had gone right through, then snapped clean off. Reaching around, she felt the fletched butt still intact. Steeling herself, she snapped off the fletching and pulled the shaft out of her shoulder. She howled in pain, clutching her violated joint. Blood pouring from the wound, mixing with the rain which had soaked right through her clothes. Forcing herself to focus, she wove a healing spell, directing it to the wrecked tendons of her shoulder. Golden light shone from between her fingers as the wound closed up and the muscles knitted back together.

Once it was healed, she flexed her stiff fingers while her magicka recharged. With the balled up cloth still between her fangs, she carefully removed her broken arm from its hasty sling and laid it gently on her lap. Probing the arm with a thin thread of magicka, she found the break was clean. S'rendarr was smiling on her today. She used her magic to see when the bones were aligned correctly, and quickly welded the bone together. It took several minutes for the bone and marrow to melt back together, and during that time she had to remain completely still.

When she was done, M'rassi collapsed back against the door, her magicka spent. She was exhausted. If it weren't for the rain pouring down and soaking her to the bone, she'd rest up here for an hour of so. She'd have to be more careful. She couldn't just barge into the Temple like a Senche on the rampage. Look where that had gotten her.

M'rassi leaned forward, grasped her ankle and channelled her healing magic into it. Within seconds it wasn't sore any more and she pushed herself to her feet. Her recently injured arm was still tender, but she could use it. She turned out her pack, and sifted through the shards for any unbroken potions. She tugged on the heavy door, opening it just enough to slip inside and out of the storm still raging outside.

She shut the door carefully. She didn't want to attract the attention of any Draugr inside just yet. Using a variation of the Telekinesis spell, she forced the water from her clothes. The spell was difficult for her, she never could get the hang of advanced Alteration magic, even back in the Synod. When she was done, she chugged down a stamina potion, swiftly followed by a magicka potion and a sizable quantity of moon sugar. Within minutes she felt them flowing through her veins and she felt much better.

Rising to her feet, M'rassi readied her magic, drawing on the Illusion school. She cast a different spell with each hand, one muffling the sound of her feet, the other turning her invisible. With these two spells used in conjunction, she could go almost anywhere without alerting enemies. She'd first learned of this potent combination down in Blackreach, avoiding the Dwemer machines and Falmer with her chaurus thrall. She unclipped her husband's bow from it's strap and tested the bowstring with a gentle pluck. With this plan, using her magic would render her invisibility useless. The bow was silent and deadly.

Dust fell from the ceiling, landing with a soft hiss on the flagstones, as M'rassi slowly edged down the steps. She kept her invisibility spell ready in her right hand, Onmund's bow in the other. The advanced Illusion spell did not last long, and she'd have to reapply it frequently. Another reason not to use her Destruction spells. Keep her magicka reserves for her invisibility, just in case she got spotted and needed a quick escape.

The fane of Skuldafn was very much the same as other temples dedicated to the Dragon Cult of the Merethic Era. Unlike most barrows, Skuldafn appeared to have been brought back to life since the return of Alduin. It was well lit, hundreds of tallow candles crowded every available flat surface. Every nook, cranny, ledge, arch and statue sprouted their own miniature forest. Bright red banners hung in several places, depicting the fane's High Priest. Nahkriin, Vengeance, judging from the dragon script embroidered into the linen with black yarn. The banners moved a little in an unknown breeze.

"Laas-Yah-Nir!" M'rassi whispered the Shout.

A trio of red blotches appeared in her vision, slowly moving back and forth as the draugr stalked the temple halls. M'rassi pulled an arrow from her quiver, and crept forward. She kept her ears alert, twitching them this way and that, catching every sound echoing through the passages. She renewed her invisibility spell as she approached the patrol.

Soon, she found them. Moving silently, she crept along the passage behind them. Their ancient metal and leather boots thudded loudly in the narrow confines of the passage. She watched as they each shifted to the side, avoiding a particular paving stone. M'rassi echoed their path, dodging the trap. They eventually stopped and stood for a few moments before they turned around and headed back to her. She hurriedly got out of the way. Her spell would count for naught if one brushed against her.

Once they were past her, she edged away from the wall. Her foot slipped, and the bottles in her knapsack clinked softly as she regained her balance. With a dry rasping grunt, the last draugr whirled around, and M'rassi froze. Her heart leaped into her throat for several moments until the draugr slowly turned back and followed his mummified comrades.

M'rassi breathed a sigh of relief, taking care to not make a sound. She renewed her spell, the tickle of magicka telling her that if the draugr had lingered any longer, she would have been in trouble. Tail held rigid, she pressed on, further into the ruins.

She came to a large room, where a single draugr was pacing back and forth along a series of pillars. It was one of the rotating puzzles that the ancient Nords were fond of. The problem was, the columns made a lot of noise as they turned, and would instantly draw the attention of the draugr. She spied another pair, laying in recesses in the wall. Quickly, M'rassi formulated a plan.

She quietly settled the bow over her shoulder, snagged the arrow between her sharp teeth and slipped her lucky dagger from her boot. Renewing her invisibility, she approached one of the sleeping draugr, and carefully readied her weapon. With a quick, silent cut, she slit his throat, cutting deep enough to sever the spinal column. His eyes flew open, glowing an angry blue, which faded as he perished. Listening carefully, M'rassi heard the awake draugr still wearing a path before the columns. He had not heard her.

She repeated the process with the second sleeping draugr, slipping the dagger back into her boot. She drew her bow, training the arrow on the pacing draugr, who was still oblivious to the danger he was in. As he approached her, he stepped into a patch of light. M'rassi loosed her arrow, and it hit the draugr right in the forehead. For an instant, M'rassi thought she was in luck, she wasn't normally that good a shot. But the dead draugr pitched over, dropping his ancient metal sword on the stone floor. The clang echoed through the cavern, and she heard the patrol she'd passed earlier shout an alarm.

"Oh shit!" She swore softly. No longer caring about remaining silent, she dashed over to the columns, looked around for the clues normally found nearby. She manipulated the pillars into their correct configuration and yanked on a lever nearby. A portcullis at the far end of the chamber opened. Sinking back into a crouch, she renewed both her invisibility and the spell muffling her footsteps. She was almost half way to the exit when the patrol burst into the room.

They growled when they saw the fallen bodies and the open portcullis. M'rassi moved as fast and silently as she could and just as she slipped under the pointed door, the portcullis dropped. The draugr in the room laughed, a ghastly dry sound. They must think that she was still on the other side. Lucky.

With a deep breath to slow her thundering heart, she moved on. The khajiit were natural hunters, and stealth was second nature to them. This combined with M'rassi's magic, helped her get though the Skuldafn Temple without alerting any draugr. Eventually she came to a dead end.

It was a small room, with a single altar and sarcophagus. A draugr was leaning against the altar, pushing a soul gem to and fro across the surface. Knowing what she did about the Nordic ruins, the way out of this room would be through the sarcophgus, and it's occupant. This meant a fight.

M'rassi swore under her breath in Ta'agra. She absent-mindedly renewed her invisibility, and then suddenly she was focussed on her magic. Why hadn't she thought of this sooner? She wove the complicated silencing spell that she'd learned in Riverhold and sealed off the room. With the door shut and the silencing ward in effect, no one would be able to see or hear anything going on in this room.

She stood up, slipping the bow back over her shoulder, and readied her magic. The draugr heard the crackle of the sparks in her hand and whirled around, only to receive a bolt of lightning to the face. He back flipped over the altar, landing in front of the sarcophagus. The draugr inside kicked the lid off, crushing the first draugr. M'rassi had readied another thunderbolt and he was dead again before he even stepped from his tomb.

Satisfied, M'rassi shoved the body out of the way, and climbed through the sarcophagus into a series of catacombs. The thing that worried M'rassi however, was the copious amount of spider webs coating the recessed burial platforms. She hated spiders at the best of times, and right now she really loathed them. She couldn't sneak around the creatures like she could with draugr, they always seemed to sense if someone was nearby.

"Hrrra." M'rassi huffed a growl. She would have to use her magic and hope for the best. Focussing her magicka she weaved a spell similar to a ward, but with a destructive twist. M'rassi rarely used her flame cloak spell, anything that got close to her would burst into flames, friend or foe alike. Now that she was alone, she didn't have to worry about setting Onmund ablaze. She readied more of her fire magic.

She found the first of the creatures around a couple of corners. She charged at it, streaming gouts of flame from her palms, pushing past the gigantic arachnid as it expired. She ran into another around the corner, then another, and another. She drowned each and every spider she come across with her fire magic, her flame cloak keeping her mostly safe. She couldn't do anything about the poison they were spitting at her. Everywhere it splashed her limbs felt like they were made of stone.

Soon she'd carved her way through the spider's nest, and reached a door. She collapsed before it. Sitting up, she wove the last of her magicka into the spell that forced the spider venom from her clothes, like she'd done with the rain. She panted, and stretched her legs, gulping down another potion as she did so. Her fingers ached from the amount of magicka that had flown through them in the last few minutes and she stretched them too.

The door flew open without warning, and M'rassi jumped up.

"Aav dilon!" The draugr taunted.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" The khajiit Shouted. Her Thu'um slammed him back into a revolving column, leaving the imprint of a hawk in the draugr's bare back. She ignored him, catching sight of two more draugr in the chamber. She flung a fireball at one of them, aimed an ice spear at the other, and finished each of them with a bolt of lightning. She quickly solved the second puzzle, wrenching a lever to lower a drawbridge. She slipped through the door at the other end as silently as she could, renewing her invisibility and muffling spells as she did so.

And not a moment too soon. A draugr was standing at an altar with his back to her, so she shut the door silently behind her. M'rassi slowly approached the draugr, skirting around him and the altar up a small flight of stairs. Another pair of draugr were stalking the catwalk across the chamber. M'rassi would have to time it right to get across undetected. She waited until the first one was off the bridge, and snuck up behind the one still on it. She followed as the draugr unintentionally led her off the bridge. As soon as she was able, M'rassi sidestepped past him. As she did so, her tail accidentally flicked out and brushed across the undead Nord's leg.

In an instant, the draugr had clamped his icy fingers down on M'rassi's tail, breaking the invisibility spell.

"Fuck!" M'rassi squeaked, and she shot off, ripping her tail from his grasp.

The three draugr gave chase as she tore down the passage towards a room with a circular staircase. She skidded on oil as she dashed into the room. As she righted herself, she spied a lamp hanging from the ceiling. Thinking quickly, she launched herself at the staircase and tossed a small icicle at the lamp. The draugr burst into the room and skidded on the oil as she had, just as the lamp was struck by the ice and began to fall. It exploded, spraying flaming oil everywhere.

M'rassi climbed the stairs on all fours as fast as she could. The draugr were already dead from the flames, but it was only a matter of time before the stairs themselves caught alight. M'rassi crested the staircase, unaware that she was still visible. She heard the dry croak of a draugr behind her and spotted him hiding in a small bolt hole through a hole in the wall. She spied the sheen of lamp oil on the ground behind him. Smiling savagely at him, she dropped a fireball through the hole and ducked down.

She covered her ears to block out the rasping screams of the draugr in his confined space. He had not been alone, judging from the additional voices crying out. Once they were silent, she went into the small room. She ignored the awful stink of charred man-flesh as she yanked on a lever, opening the way forward. She sunk to a crouch, reapplying her invisibility spell as she continued on.

She crept along a wide corridor slick with lamp oil. Why on Nirn would there be so much lamp oil splashed about? Perhaps they meant to trap me? Good thing I can use them to my advantage, M'rassi thought.

She dodged and weaved around the trap triggers, rigged to drop the lamps hanging overhead into the oil. She reached the corner, and peeked around. At the far end of the corridor was a draugr, guarding one of the puzzle doors that were common in Nordic barrows. He was heavily armoured and had a great-sword strapped to his back. He'd also heard the commotion caused by M'rassi's fire and was waiting for her, glaring along the corridor to where M'rassi was watching him back.

M'rassi huffed quietly. She moved right out into the middle of the corridor. She felt the tickle of magicka as her spell began to wear off. She stood quickly.

"Hey! Jekosiit!" She yelled at the draugr as she suddenly appeared.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" The draugr Shouted at her, his icy Thu'um rushing at her.

M'rassi dove aside, running on her toes back down the corridor. She skidded to a halt near one of the trap triggers and waited until the draugr rounded the corner in pursuit. She snarled loudly at him and he started down the slope toward her. M'rassi jumped at the trigger and bounced off, diving to safety.

The draugr tried to stop as the lamps began to fall, but he slipped on the oil, feet flying out from beneath him almost comically. The lamps hit the floor and exploded, the oil went up and the draugr was engulfed in flame as he slid down the corridor. She hastened his demise by slinging lightning bolts at him. By the time he reached M'rassi, he was little more than a charred mess of mangled fresh.

M'rassi extinguished him with her frost magic and checked to see if he had the claw key for the puzzle door she'd seen. He did. Tucked under his armour was the key shaped like a dragon's talon, made of solid gold, except for the claws, which had been lovingly carved from the most beautiful diamonds. It must have taken a very long time to make such a thing.

She marched back up to the puzzle door and opened it, matching the symbols on the door with the symbols on the claw. As the door sank into the ground, M'rassi stuffed the beautiful claw into her knapsack and readied her magic. She couldn't see any more draugr in the passage ahead, so she slowly advanced forward. The passage opened up to a large chamber, a Word Wall prominently placed at the far end.

"Laas-Yah-Nir!" M'rassi Shouted, but no red splotches appeared in her vision. She was alone. Sighing in relief, she made her way to the Wall, where a Word of Power glowed expectantly. As she approached, the Word bored it's way into her mind. She saw the Word, Qo, Lightning, in her mind. She felt the soul of one of the dragons he'd killed outside rise up in her mind, seize the Word and pour it's knowledge into it. M'rassi understood the Word and she could see how it fit into her Storm Call Shout. It was now complete.

When the whole process was finished, she sagged and sat down, leaning against the Wall. Gods she was tired. And hungry. There wasn't much she could do about the latter. She looked around, triple-checking there were no more draugr around. Once she'd confirmed she was alone, she spotted a door. She crept up to it and pressed her ear against it. She could hear thunder crashing. The door lead outside. She placed a Rune at the door, then retreated back to the Word Wall. She placed several more Runes, as well as the other wards she and Onmund usually did when they slept in dangerous places. Once satisfied that she would be woken if draugr did chance upon her, she shucked off her gear, bunched up her anorak and laid down, pulling her outer robes over her like a blanket.

Sleep did not come easily though, never mind her weariness. She was too wired from her trip through Skuldafn, too worried about the road ahead. It was also the first time since Blackreach that she'd slept alone. She missed Onmund terribly. She missed the way he'd curl up with her, arm snaked around her waist, his warm breath on her neck. She missed his familiar scent, the pine and frost of his magic, as well as his own unique and utterly male odour. She missed the way he laughed, and made her laugh. She even missed his snoring. She chuckled a little at that thought. She hoped he was alright, back in Whiterun.

Fingering his amulet, she soon drifted into a fitful slumber.

###########

M'rassi growled and stretched, she'd barely even gotten more than a couple of hour's sleep. Still, it would have to do. She clambered to her feet, using the carved letters of the Word Wall to heave herself up. She pulled the stopper off her last stamina potion, gulping down the bitter liquid greedily. She pulled the jar of moon sugar from the pocket of her bunched-up anorak and greedily licked the sweet drug from her fingertips.

She took a moment to think, the sugar dissolving slowly on her tongue. She was almost at the top of Skuldafn. She'd almost run out of potions. She'd just have to make do. She slipped a magicka potion into her pocket to save for later, having used the other one after the spiders. She might need it in Sovngarde, if Sovngarde even existed. Gathering her things into her pack, she stood up and slung the bow and quiver onto her back. Retreating a safe distance, she set off her Runes. Once the path was clear, she made her way to the small door and opened it just enough to peek out.

It was dark now. Her Thu'um induced storm had dissipated and M'rassi could see the aurora dancing across the night sky. In the pale yellow light, She spied several Draugr stalking the ramparts, and though she couldn't see them, she could hear the second pair of dragons, somewhere above her. She quietly shut the door again. Thinking quickly, she formulated a plan.

She took a deep breath, ripped open the door and Shouted, "Strun-Bah-Qo!"

That got the attention of every Draugr in sight. They whipped their heads around as they were plunged into darkness and the aurora vanished. With a crack of deafening thunder, the rain came tumbling down. M'rassi flung a Lightning Rune at her feet, then slammed the door shut. She heard thunder clash outside, followed swiftly by her Rune exploding.

She tore the door open again, bellowing, "Fus-Ro-Dah!"

Her Thu'um exploded outwards, scattering the half-dozen Draugr that had rushed the door. Sparks flying from her fingertips, she burst from the doorway. She aimed a bolt of electricity at the nearest Draugr, striking him down where he lay stunned. M'rassi pirouetted fluidly, and slung a javelin of ice at another Draugr, slamming him back and off the terrace.

Thunder boomed overhead and M'rassi glimpsed a black shadow flash bright white as a dragon was struck by her storm. The serpent gave a roar of pain, and flew off, it's wings twitching as is nerves misfired. Blinking the shape of the dragon out of her eyes, M'rassi returned to her deadly dance with the Draugr. One came at her, swinging a great battleaxe. M'rassi bellowed in fury, casting the spell to turn her skin as hard as stone. She ducked the blade as the Draugr swung it down. It hit the stone with a clang.

Seizing the opportunity, M'rassi grabbed the handle of the large weapon, and send a surge of electricity up the metal to the Draugr, who convulsed and dropped it. M'rassi gripped the haft and drove the pommel into the Draugr's desiccated gut. She heard a raspy voice growl above the noise of the rain and she twisted around and drove the head of the great axe into another Draugr, charging in from behind. He staggered, and M'rassi tossed the axe at him, following it with a ball of flame.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!"

M'rassi heard the Shout and threw up her Ward at the last second, deflecting the dragon's Thu'um to the Draugr around her. She slung a desperate bolt of lightning at the draconian shadow. The great beast howled and flew off. M'rassi frowned, the shadow was different than the other one. Both of the serpents must have joined the fray. Almost as if it' had heard her thoughts, the first dragon landed heavily right behind her, crushing a Draugr under its talons.

"Skuldafn fen kos dinok!" He bellowed, and tried to snatch her in his teeth.

M'rassi dove out of the way, and snatching up the Draugr's axe, she gave a Shout of her own. "Tiid-Klo!"

Time slowed to a crawl and M'rassi stepped close to the dragon, easily avoiding its fangs as it tried to make another grab at her. A bolt of lightning was forking down at the dragon, outpacing the torrential rain easily. M'rassi swung the axe as hard as she could, the blade biting deep into the dragon's jugular. She felt time start to speed up, and let go of the handle a split second before the dragon was struck by the lightning. As the dragon collapsed, dead, she jumped back, narrowly avoiding another Draugr.

"Dir volaan!" It howled in rage.

It lunged at her, and though she tried to dodge, it smashed it's mace into her side. Her Stoneflesh spell took the brunt of the blow, but it still hurt. She staggered and the Draugr punched her muzzle. She barely even noticed the dead dragon's soul flowing into her, infusing her with it's strength.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" She bellowed, her Thu'um pushing the Draugr back. She quickly whipped a Frost Rune onto the paved ground between them. She snarled a challenge as the undead warrior came at her once again. It ran right onto the Rune, which exploded and the Draugr fell, desiccated flesh shredded. M'rassi pelted it with fireballs until it was little more than a pile of ash. Panting heavily, she looked around, water dripping from her face. She could taste blood on her tongue.

"Argh, fuck." She cursed, holding her sore ribs with her hand as she channelled her healing spell into the badly bruised flesh. "Gods, that hurt." She scanned the sky for the second dragon, drinking down the last of the magicka potions in her sodden pack. That jekosiit was still out there, somewhere. She could hear him roaring, but with the bowl of the valley, the odd shape of the Temple and the pouring rain, she couldn't pinpoint where. Lightning was still forking down from the maelstrom, but something was drawing it to the top of the Temple, away from the circling dragon. There.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" She Shouted at the dark shadow gliding across the only slightly paler sky.

"Dovahkiin! Nid!" The dragon howled in anguish as M'rassi's Thu'um forced the unimaginable idea of mortality into the dovah's mind. He pulled around, and flared his wings, trailing purple light. He slammed into the stone, gouging a great channel in the paved ground. The torn up paving stones flew in every direction, a much more deadly rain that the storm raging overhead. M'rassi circled around him as the great lizard pulled himself from the rent.

"Skuldafn fen kos dinok!" He taunted, pulling himself around to face her.

"It hasn't killed me yet!" She snarled, flicking her tail in defiance.

"Pahlok mey. You will never leave this place alive!"

"Paak!" M'rassi spat her answer in kind, charging a ball of electricity in her hands. It was the single most powerful spell she knew, and she'd only be able to use it once. 'Make it count' she thought, glaring at the dragon as he seemed to shake with rage at the insult.

With a savage roar, the dragon lifted his head, and opened his maw wide. He thrust his neck downward and M'rassi fired her spell right down his gullet. A raging torrent of electricity arced from M'rassi's splayed fingers to the dragon's tongue, surging through his teeth and skull and down the length of his body. The dragon's jaws snapped shut inches from M'rassi. She held her ground, as the dragon collapsed to the ground, twitching and groaning lowly. Soon it fell silent.

M'rassi panted, letting the rain wash over her. She was almost at her limit. She sagged, palms on her knees, short tail hanging limp. She still had that magicka potion in her pocket, but decided against using it. As she caught her breath, she left the dragon's soul flow into her. She felt his strength permeate through her body, bolstering her own reserves.

With a deep sniff, she straightened, her joints stiff. She stretched quickly, hoping to limber up, just in-case there were more enemies between her and Alduin's gate to Sovngarde. Her magicka would recharge but it would take time. She unclipped Onmund's bow from her back, remarkably undamaged from her journey through Skuldafn. She checked the bowstring, making sure it wasn't too wet. M'rassi plucked it gently, and it twanged softly. Satisfied, she made her way around to the front of the building.

She climbed up a wide staircase, and as she crested the top, a pillar of frigid air came at her. She dived to the side, just as the thing hit the top step and exploded. Ice shards sprayed in every direction, tearing up her robes even more. She ducked behind a pillar, and peeked around.

On a raised podium stood a Dragon Priest, Nahkriin, the High Priest of Skuldafn, an immensely powerful creature what was half-draugr, half-lich. Behind him was a fountain of light, shining impossibly bright on the black clouds. As M'rassi watched, lightning forked down from the sky and stuck the priest. The creature staggered, and M'rassi smiled triumphantly.

"Zu'u Nahkriin! Zu'u uth nall thurri dein daar miiraak!" The priest taunted, looking right at her hiding place. He snatched up his staff and the fountain of light vanished, plunging them into the dark of the stormy night.

M'rassi listened hard through the rain, and ducked back into cover as another spell exploded right on the other side of her pillar. Steeling herself, she nocked an arrow and drew the bow tight. Moving like she was on the hunt, she ducked down a couple of pillars and whipped around.

She trained her bow on Nahkriin, slowly edging out from cover. He was slowly gliding towards her old hiding place. He had not seen or heard her move. This was good. She loosed the arrow and immediately jumped behind the podium. Nahkriin howled in rage, whirling around and shooting another spell. It burst into dozens of ice shards right where M'rassi had been standing.

She peeked her head around the podium. Sure enough, the dragon priest was floating in her direction. He sneered as she pulled her head back. M'rassi drew her bow, peeked out her head and whipped it back once again when Nahkriin fired off another spell, fire this time. As soon as the smoke cleared she stepped out, fired the arrow, and dove back into her hiding spot.

"Wuld-Nah!" She Shouted, zipping across the terrace to another set of arched pillars. Nahkriin spotted her, pausing only momentarily as a deafening crash of thunder sounded and he was hit by a peal of lightning. M'rassi repeated her tactic, and another arrow jutted out from Nahkriin's body. She moved to the next pillar, and nocked another arrow. She poked her head out to see where her foe was, and withdrew her head once again as the priest blasted another spell into the stonework. Nahkriin was almost right on top of her. She quickly drew the bow, whipped around the corner and-

_TWANG!_

-the bowstring snapped.

The arrow fell uselessly to the ground, and the snapped string lashed her face, making a stinging cut on her muzzle. M'rassi cursed in Ta'agra, dropping her husband's bow and reaching for her lucky dagger. She jumped out from behind the pillar, right into Nahkriin's grasp. The undead priest had lurched forward when her saw the bowstring snap, hoping to surprise the khajiit.

M'rassi choked a groan, his icy fingers were wrapped around her throat, trying to crush the life from her. She glared into his malevolent glowing eyes, reached up to his hands and with a small amount of electricity flowing from her fingers, she pried his thumb loose. It was enough to gulp down a breathe of air. Enough to use her Thu'um.

"Let go." She growled.

Nahkriin simply laughed at her.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" She Shouted.

A wall of sound hit Nahkriin and he flew into the night sky, dropping his staff. Another bolt of lightning from her Thu'um induced storm finished him off, the ashes blown away in the wind. M'rassi dropped to her knees, clutching her neck. She could still feel his vice-like grip on her throat. He'd almost had her.

She forced herself to her feet, and limped over to the podium. On the top, there was a circular motif, with a small hole. His staff had been there, before the fountain of light vanished, she remembered. Before she could turn to look, she spied the motif on the plaza before her. Inside a circle was a relief of two dragons, each chasing the other's tail, locked for eternity in their dance. In the dark, M'rassi could only make it out because of her superior khajiiti eyesight. If Onmund were here, he wouldn't be able to see it at all.

She left the podium and found the dragon priest's staff, as well as her bow and dagger. Ascending the platform once again, she jammed the butt of the staff into the hole. As she watched, the dragon motif cracked and bulged upward. A second later it collapsed and began whirling above a black, blue and white light. White light poured up into the sky, illuminating the maelstrom overhead. This light fountain was Alduin's gate to Sovngarde.

Dread crept into M'rassi's heart. If she went in there, she might never come out. The Scroll had not revealed anything beyond this point to her. She took a handful of moon sugar and stuffed it into her mouth, shuddering as the sweet taste melted over her tongue. In a pinch, moon sugar worked almost as well as a stamina potion. Steeling herself, she looked back over the fortress she'd fought her way through, to the mountain range masked by the downpour.

"Lok-Vah-Koor!" She Shouted, and the storm slowly dissipated. The golden aurora danced across the twin moons in the sky. She thought of that night under aurora at Ustengrav, and smiled. If this was going to be the last time she ever saw Tamriel, she wanted it to be a happy memory.

"Gods give me strength." She breathed, and before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, she sprinted at the fountain and jumped into the light.


	22. Sovngarde

**Chapter Twenty Two: Sovngarde.**

"Can't I ever land on my feet?" M'rassi groaned.

She lifted her head and rubbed her sore muzzle. Wherever she was now, she'd landed flat on her face on the cold hard stone. Her hand came away bloody, so she wove a healing spell, fixing it on her nose and cut lip. Her whole mouth hurt too, and running her tongue along her teeth, she discovered one of the longer canines was chipped. Still, at least she was dry.

"Gods damn." She grumbled. M'rassi rolled over to sit up but stopped dead when she saw the sky.

It was like she was looking up into a gaping tunnel made of clouds stained pink and blue. The clouds only seemed half there, and she could see stars behind them. The stars themselves were slowly sinking downward, almost like a soft snowfall. But the most astonishing thing was the great white light in the middle of it all.

"By all the Gods... " M'rassi whispered. She'd never seen anything so beautiful. "Is that...? Is that... Aetherius? No... no, it can't be... can it?" M'rassi muttered, getting to her feet. She never took her eyes from the light in the sky. Whatever it was, it was radiating raw magicka, though not like any other she'd ever felt. It rained down on her like sunlight, bathing her in it's purity, feeling warm on her face. "The Dreamsleeve, maybe...?" She twitched her whiskers. "Then..." She tore her gaze from the sky to see where was.

M'rassi was standing on a small stone-paved platform at the head of a narrow valley. Several braziers burned nearby, and tall columns carved with hooded figures loomed over her. The platform gave way to a staircase, winding its way down the narrow pass, lined by rocky cairns with red banners fluttering in a cool breeze. More of the tall carved pillars lined the road which disappeared into a thick fog.

From her high vantage point, M'rassi could see the fog was pooled in a large valley, bounded by tall bluffs. Here and there the tips of spruce trees poked from the mist, and there were more columns dotted about. On the other side of the mist rose a Hall of such proportions, it was mind-boggling. The Hall could probably fit the whole city of Whiterun in it, and still have room for Riverwood and Ivarstead. It was immense.

"Is this... Sovngarde?" M'rassi muttered. "Oh my Gods, it's _real_? Alkosh, how can it be real? Isn't Shor, Lorkhaj? Isn't Lorkhaj dead? Or trapped outside the Lattice? Or... or... If Lorkhaj is dead, then how can this realm exist? What is Shor? Aedra? Daedra? Both? Neither? Have we been wrong about the Gods all along?" She shouted to the heavens. This was too much, _too much_!

A distant roar grabbed her attention, and she tore her gaze from the Aetherial light. She caught a glimpse of a black wing poking out from the fog, moving swiftly. Another roar followed when the wing dipped into the miasma.

"Alduin." M'rassi growled, her eyes narrowed and ears laid back.

It didn't matter if this was really Sovngarde or not, M'rassi decided. She was there for Alduin and here he was, prowling the mist in the valley. She squared her shoulders and noticed that she wasn't wearing her pack. She looked around and saw that it wasn't anywhere on the platform. Neither were Onmund's quiver or his bow, with it's snapped bowstring.

"Gods damn." M'rassi sighed.

Where could they be? She thought. She checked herself over, looking to see what had travelled to this realm with her. Her anorak was gone, but she still had her robes, the powerful enchantment woven into the fabric would help in the coming fight. She had the magicka potion stuffed into her pocket, the last one left after her assault on Skuldafn. She still had all her earrings, her wedding ring, and her husband's amulet. She even had Dragon's Tear, the necklace passed down her family for generations. In this place it glowed brightly, something she'd never seen it do before. M'rassi quickly checked her boot and found her dagger tucked inside, and she smiled. Alvor would be pleased, that tiny blade had saved her life many times.

"Well, I suppose that will have to do." M'rassi shrugged.

She flicked her short tail and started down the stairs. A wind picked up, rushing down the confines of the gully, as if it was speeding her along the road to her fate. Soon she was engulfed in the mist, barely able to see in front of her. But the worst part was the feeling of absolute hopelessness and misery that overwhelmed her as soon as she set foot into the cloying fog. It weighed down her shoulders like she was dragging a millstone along the rough cobbled road.

Could she really defeat Alduin? And if she could, how could she leave this place? This was supposed to be the land of the Nord dead. Was she dead, now? She didn't feel dead, but then how was she supposed to feel if she was? How in Oblivion was she supposed to do this, a silly little mageling from Orcrest? What if being Dragonborn wasn't enough? What if she failed? She had no doubt that Onmund would take up her mantle, and fight Alduin himself. But what if he failed, too? Alduin would eat the world and it would all have been for naught.

She walked slowly along the road, shoulders slumping and tail drooping, as despair took her. She could feel every single pain and hurt she'd ever experienced, dragged to the surface of her mind by the oppressive miasma. She remembered the loss of her parents when she was only ten summers old. She and her brother had turned to the street gangs to survive, a life of petty crime which did not fill the void in her soul. Even the distraction Yannic gave her while at the Synod failed to fill the gap that was left in her heart. She remembered the anger, sorrow, and rage when she lost Faajo, her brother, to that foolish experiment, and the hole only got deeper. With her near-execution at Helgen and this Dragonborn business driving her down this foolish path, she felt hollow. Nothing ever seemed to go right. She'd never asked for this. Why her? She'd never felt so lost and alone and hopeless before.

"Oh gods. What's happening to me?" M'rassi stopped walking, unable to will her feet to carry on. "Is it this mist? What is it? Have the gods forsaken me? I feel so useless." She wailed and laid down on the hard stones of the road. She did not want to ever get up, she just wanted to wallow in this bleak pit forever. She scratched her name in Ta'agra into a gap in the stones, the glyphs misshapen since she was using her left hand. A glint of gold caught her eye. Her wedding ring.

Onmund had been the one shining light on her journey. Since he'd come into her life, the void inside seemed to have lessened, though some of the pain would always be there. He hadn't cared that she was Dragonborn. He'd only wanted to make sure she wasn't alone. The stalwart Nord had followed her all over Skyrim, helping however he could. Together they were a two-man army, an unstoppable force that drove off Alduin, the World-Eater himself. Together, they'd even managed to bludgeon the Empire and the Stormcloaks into agreeing to a temporary peace. Together, they'd climbed the highest peak and descended to the deepest reaches of Skyrim, and everything in between. He'd been there for her when she needed him most, and was always patient, never pushing her before she was ready. They laughed together, cried together, shared sugar together, and drank Skyrim dry together. He was her best friend. Was it any wonder he'd pledged his life to her, and she to him?

Onmund believed in her. Deep down, she knew this, and the thought gave her strength. She fished out his family amulet out from her robes, stamped with the wheat-sheaf and scythe of the White-Scythe clan. His family. Her family. He'd given her that gift too, one she'd never thought she'd have again.

M'rassi got to her feet, taking comfort in the love she felt for Onmund. And not only her husband, but for all the friends they'd made on their adventures; J'zargo, Brelyna, Etienne, Lucan, Camilla, Jarl Idgrod, Farengar, Irileth, Jarl Balgruuf, Lydia and Hadvar. Even Paarthurnax and the Greybeards. They all believed in her, for _her_, not just because she was the Dragonborn.

And more importantly than them, M'rassi believed in herself. She was a very different person from the timid and frightened woman who had faced the axe, all those months ago. She was more confident in herself and her abilities. She'd grown much more powerful, and with her adventures and Faralda's books, she'd found the control of magic she'd been seeking since the accident at Riverhold. Even parts of her old self, before the accident, were starting to shine through. She was more relaxed and easy-going. She'd learned how to laugh, and love again. She'd been faced with insurmountable odds, and every time she rose to the challenge.

She'd fetched the Dragonstone from Bleak Falls Barrow, slain Mirmulnir, and climbed the highest mountain in Skyrim. She'd infiltrated the Thalmor Embassy, something she would never have dared attempt before coming north. She'd faced the Prophesy on Alduin's Wall and accepted her role as Dragonborn. She'd spoken to one of the oldest beings alive in the whole world, and been greeted as an equal. She'd slain Vulthuryol down in Blackreach, a moment of triumph that signalled a turning point for her. After she'd taken down the ancient dragon on her own, she felt nothing could stop her. She'd single-handedly stormed Skuldafn, slaying four dragons as she went. What was Alduin, but one more dragon?

"Onmund believes in me... _I_ believe in me... I can do this." She smiled, clutching her husband's silver pendant tightly.

She kissed the amulet and slipped it back down her shirt. Head and tail held high, she marched along the road, keeping her friends and family in mind to stave off the effects of the cloying fog. She could probably Shout the mist away, but then Alduin would probably just summon it right back. No, she decided, best save her strength.

She carried on down the mountain, following the road as it emerged from the fog below her feet. The track wound steadily downhill, twisting and turning, and M'rassi thought it was heading in the direction of the gigantic hall. She couldn't be certain however, the fog was even thick enough to block out the light in the pink and blue sky.

A loud roar sounded overhead, and M'rassi threw herself to the ground as Alduin made a low pass over the road. His wake tugged on the fog and for a moment Aetherial light shone down on M'rassi. She wasn't yet ready to face Alduin. If she could find a high point above the mist, then maybe she would be in business. When she picked herself up and dusted herself off, Mrassi heard heavy boots thudding on the stone road. She froze, waiting for whatever it was to reveal itself.

It was a man. A Stormcloak soldier from the look of his garb. He wore padded chainmail with a blue sash, as well as an open-faced helm with a pair of sheep horns on top. The soldier glowed with a soft golden light. He was running up the path toward her, and stopped short when he saw her.

"A khajiit?" He blurted in surprise, before jogging right to her. His face held a mixture of hope and terror.

"Turn back, traveller! Terror waits in this mist." He told her, skidding to a halt. M'rassi now see that he glowed with a very pale gold light. "Many have braved the shadowed vale but vain is all courage against the peril that guards the way."

"Who are you?" M'rassi asked, curiously.

"Near Giant's Gap, in the gloom before dawn, we marched, unsuspecting into the Imperial's trap. Then we stood and fought, our shield-wall defending until by dawn's light the Legion's ranks wavered. But I never knew if nights-end brought victory - a swift flying arrow to Sovngarde carried me." He replied.

M'rassi gasped. This man was dead. This man was the soul of a Stormcloak soldier killed in Ulfric's pointless war. To this man, this spirit, this place_ was_ Sovngarde. He'd come here on his death. It was real. That simple fact clanged in M'rassi's mind like the tolling of a bell. She didn't know exactly what Sovngarde was, but it's existence, she'd give it that.

"Do you know what this mist is? It's making me feel awful... " She told the dead man.

"I do not know." He sighed. "But none have passed through. Alduin, his hunger insatiable, hunts the lost souls snared within this shadowed valley. Can you lead the way to where Shor's hall waits, beckoning us on to welcome long sought?" The soldier asked.

"Shor's Hall? Is that the place I saw at the other end of this valley?" M'rassi asked.

"Don't you know? What drew you here? Surely your dreams showed you the way?" He asked in confusion.

"I'm khajiit. I've never really believed in Sovngarde."

"The Hall of Valour, where heroes wait to follow Shor to the final battle. I saw it fair when I first trod this long-sought path. The pain and fear vanished, dreamlike, and a vision beckoned."

"I didn't get anything like that." M'rassi muttered, licking her chipped fang.

"Shor's Hall, glimmering across the clouded vale." The soldier said, he hadn't heard M'rassi speak. "But quenched was hope by the shrouding mist - my mind is darkened. I've lost the way and wander blindly. Hurry! Before Alduin your life devours, bring word to Shor's hall of our hard fate!" The soldier pleaded.

"Courage, friend." M'rassi grasped the shade's shoulders. "Think of your family, your loved ones. They will give you strength. Now follow me, I will lead you to Shor's Hall."

The dead man smiled. "I'll try to hold to your hopeful purpose. Quickly, before this encompassing fog once more snares me in the World-Eater's net."

Together they ran down the mountain path and it soon flattened out as they reached the floor of the valley. M'rassi had to stop and rest for a minute. She was still a mortal and had a mortal's limits.

"In life I felled foes unnumbered, fearless in battle; but no blade can defend against the terror of this gloom-stricken valley." The soldier told her as she panted.

"How long have you been here?" M'rassi asked him.

"I do not know. The sun and moons do not pass here as they do on fair Tamriel." He answered sadly.

"Let's get going, then." M'rassi said, and they started jogging along the road.

They crossed a stream which cut across the road, kicking up great plumes of water. M'rassi reached down and scooped up some of the precious liquid as she ran. She was insanely thirsty, having had nothing but potions to drink since leaving Breezehome... yesterday? The small amount of liquid barely wet her tongue, but she kept on running. There was absolutely nothing to be done about her hunger. Perhaps when they got to the Hall of Valour, she might be let inside and have a bite to eat.

A growl rumbled out of the fog, startlingly close, and M'rassi drew up short, the dead soldier skidding to a halt beside her. Alduin loomed out of the mist, his red eyes glaring malevolently and his breath coming in ragged puffs in the cool air.

"Get back!" M'rassi pushed the soldier back, preparing to Shout.

But instead of attacking, Alduin lifted off with a snarl, pushing the mist away with his wing beats. The great black dragon soared off.

"There is no escape. Courage is useless." The dead soldier said quietly, his voice wavering as fear sank into him.

"Don't give up now! I'm here to defeat Alduin!" M'rassi shook his shoulders.

"Dovahkiin, get down!" He pushed her out of the way as Alduin descended with a roar.

The World-Eater snatched up the soul of the soldier and swallowed him, and M'rassi looked on in horror. The soldier had saved her life at the cost of his own soul, the poor, brave, stupid man. M'rassi watched, growling deeply, ears back, as Alduin pulled around with a roar.

"Oh shit!" M'rassi dived into the mist as the big black dragon swooped down. She crawled into the fog again as Alduin's wake exposed her again. She scrambled to her feet and ran, not along the road, but away from it. Alduin knew she was here, and would be looking for her on the path, so leaving the road was probably the safest choice.

"Meyye Dovahkiin. You think to hide from me!" Alduin taunted as he flew overhead, wing beats thundering.

M'rassi just kept running, away from the place where Alduin had consumed the soul of a mortal right in front of her. How many others filled the belly of the World-Eater? A shadow loomed ahead, and M'rassi skidded to a halt before she ran straight into a rock face.

Panting heavily, she placed a hand on the stone and listened carefully, ears twisting back and forth. She heard Alduin call again, further away and muffled. The mist was thick enough to deaden the sound and M'rassi had trouble picking the direction the dark dragon had gone.

Keeping the shadowy rock-face to her left she followed the base of the cliff, northward. Or what she hoped was northward. Did Sovngarde have a north? It didn't matter, she decided, as long as she followed the road. But she'd left the road behind in her panic and she cursed loudly in Ta'agra. She'd tried to go in a straight line when she left the road, but she couldn't be sure if she veered away. How would she find her way now?

The oppressive mist tried to insinuate itself back into M'rassi's mind, hopelessness and desolation clawing at the edge of her consciousness. She grasped Onmund's amulet and fought the gloomy thoughts, pushing them away. She stopped and tried to think. She must have a Shout or a spell that might help.

"Laas-Yah-Nir!" She bellowed, her Thu'um painting her vision with a multitude of red flecks. There seemed to be many souls wandering around in the mist. Maybe one of them would know how to get to Shor's Hall. She started jogging to the closest one and soon came upon a woman, another Stormcloak.

"Do you know the way? I'm lost and weary... " She looked at M'rassi with a forlorn expression.

"No, I was hoping you knew the way." M'rassi told her.

"Hope is useless against the World-Eater's mist... "

"Courage, I am here to fight Alduin."

"I cannot hold to your hope, no-one can defeat Alduin!" And the dead woman took off into the fog, the haze swallowing both the soldier and the sound of her boots.

M'rassi looked around, her Thu'um was wearing off, the red specks fading from sight.

"Come on, M'rassi! Think!" She muttered. With a scowl on her face she wracked her brains for something that might help. A memory surfaced, of the time she and Onmund had spent at the College before they went to Blackreach.

Brelyna sat at the dinner table across from them, dropping a pile of books before her. She'd found some spells that might be useful on their adventure. J'zargo had joined them as they studied the tomes. Onmund had asked about one of the Illusion spells, how would it help them? Brelyna called it Clairvoyance, and J'zargo said it was good for finding things, and Onmund had raised a suspicious eyebrow. M'rassi took the tome and read about the spell, thinking it might come in handy.

Alduin roared, and the sound woke M'rassi from her memory, but now she knew what spell she should be using. She closed her eyes, and flared her magicka, sending the tendrils in all directions. She tugged at them with her mind, and wove them into a simple knot. As the spell collapsed in on itself, she thought about the enormous building she'd seen when she first entered Sovngarde. When the spell was ready, she opened her eyes and blew on the knot of magic. The ball flew off into the mist trailing a faint blue line behind it, and M'rassi could feel it draining her magicka. She wouldn't be able to maintain the spell for long.

She dashed along the blue line, still following the cliff face. She could not see anything aside from the mist and the line, and the fog was dampening all noises. She could have been anywhere. She focussed so hard on maintaining and following the spell that she didn't register the sound of boots thudding in her direction, until another of the lost souls smacked into her, knocking her down.

"By the Gods, man! Watch where you're going!" M'rassi growled.

The spell fizzed out as M'rassi pushed the big, blonde, gold-glowing Nord off of her. He wasn't wearing any armour, only a simple red tunic of spun wool. He had a lute strapped to his back.

"I'm sorry, Desert-Walker. It is hard to see anything in this mist." He looked at her and his eyes flashed in recognition. "Wait... I know you... you're that cat that found my verse, and freed me from King Olaf's curse!" He grinned.

"Svaknir? From Dead Man's Respite? You're looking a lot more... solid now! I'm glad to see you made it to Sovngarde." M'rassi pulled the shade to his feet.

"Aye, though it hasn't done much good. With Alduin hunting in this mist, I fear I may never set foot in Shor's great Hall." Svaknir stared off into the mist with a worried gaze.

"Have faith, friend. I am here to slay the black-winged foe."

"Truly? You have the Dragon-Blood? I would accompany you through the mist, and perhaps, when Alduin's doom you have brought about, I will compose a ballad in your honour." Svaknir grinned.

"I would welcome your company, were it not so dangerous. No, friend, you must stay here." M'rassi shook her head.

"But if I stay here, the World-Eater will surely find and devour me." The dead bard replied.

"Come with me." M'rassi led him back down the cliff to a crevice she'd passed just before he'd run into her. With a bit of effort, and a lot of complaining by the spirit, she managed to stuff the dead Nord into the hole in the rock. With any luck, he'd be safe for a time.

"Shor guide you, Dovahkiin." The blonde man grunted when M'rassi turned to leave.

M'rassi wove her Clairvoyance spell, and soon she ran off into the mist, spurred on by Alduin's roars. She really hoped Alduin could not sense her spell, because his calls seemed to be getting closer, and she didn't want to risk running into him. This time, as she ran, she didn't focus as much on her spell, keeping her eyes and ears on the grey brume swirling around her.

She passed several more spirits wandering the gloomy valley. There were Legion soldiers, Stormcloak warriors, mercenaries, and even bandits that were lucky enough to die a valiant death. All of them cried out to M'rassi as she ran by, warning her of Alduin, or lamenting the hopelessness they felt because of the fog. She ignored them, focussing on them long enough to move out of the way. It wasn't that she didn't care about to lost souls, she did, but if she stopped to help every one of them, like she had with Svaknir, then she'd never reach Shor's Hall.

M'rassi tripped on a rock as she crossed another mountain stream, landing face-first in the water. With a growl, she released her magic, and forced herself to her hands and knees. She shook herself, and the water flew everywhere. She leaned down and lapped greedily at the water with her rough tongue. By the Gods, she was thirsty. Before she could get more than a few precious mouthfuls, a hand grabbed her shoulder and hauled her to her feet.

"Move, Khajiit!" A man bellowed, dragging her away from the stream, as fast as their legs would carry them.

Alduin swooped down where she'd been kneeling a moment before, and snatching up only water, the black-winged horror flew off. M'rassi had not seen or heard him coming, she'd focused only on the wetting of her tongue. Alduin's swoop dragged the mist away, revealing the bright white tunnel in the sky. M'rassi and the shade lunged into the mist and took off up the brook, until they reached a pool of cool blue water. There, M'rassi crashed to the ground, tired, wet, and grouchy.

"Thank you." She muttered tiredly in Ta'agra, then again in Tamrielic.

"You're welcome, Khajiit."

M'rassi looked up at the dead man, still panting from the run. He was tall and had very neat, light-brown hair. He wore a gold circlet, encrusted with rubies and emeralds, and some very fine clothes, richly embroidered in the Nordic style. He held out his hand and heaved her to her feet.

"I didn't hear him coming." M'rassi told him.

"I'm not surprised, the worm's shadow was the only thing I saw, his wings but a whisper. You're lucky I saw you. I'm Torygg... " The spectre grinned.

"The High-King? By the Nine... Sorry, I'm M'rassi Dragonborn." She shook his hand.

"Well met, M'rassi Dragonborn. When Ulfric Stormcloak, with savage Shout, sent me here, my sole regret was fair Elisif, left forlorn and weeping. I faced him fearlessly - my fate inescapable, yet my honour is unstained - can Ulfric say the same?"

"Ulfric Stormcloak has a lot to answer for. Elisif is a strong woman, backed by the Empire. I have no doubt that she will make a fine ruler, once Tullius crushes the rebellion."

"Aye. Now you must hurry, else the World-Eater consumes Sovngarde, Skyrim, and all of Nirn, itself."

"Please, find a hole, or a bank, or a cave, or something. Just get out of sight, and hide from Alduin for a few more hours. I will face him once I bring word to Shor's Hall of your fate."

"Aye, Dragonborn, I know just the place. Now, go! Cleanse Sovngarde of the foul worm!" High King Torygg waved her off.

With a nod, M'rassi charged her magic and disappeared into the gloom.

#########

M'rassi emerged from the mist, bone-weary and frustrated. She'd been wandering for seemed a lifetime since she'd left Torygg, and she was growing increasingly annoyed, the mist threatening to take over her emotions again. But her mood immediately lifted as the fog's depressing miasma released it's hold on her mind. With the thoughts of her loved ones in her mind, she felt elated as she walked up a broad staircase to a terrace. She felt as though she could take on all of Skyrim.

Flanking the terrace was an unusual set of bones. They were longer than dragon bones, and it looked like the skull of some strange animal. She'd heard tales of creatures that lurked in the deep oceans that surrounded Tamriel, but had never seen anything like it. In fact, she'd never even seen the ocean itself, before she visited Dawnstar the first time. She usually didn't mind water, but the sight of so much of it had filled her with dread, and Onmund had calmly picked her up and dumped her in it. She'd pulled the fool Nord in as well; revenge was sweet, and she smiled widely at the memory.

Across a bridge made from the bones of the large animal rose the Hall of Valour, Shor's Hall. The massive edifice towered over her, almost as large as the valley itself. Six great doors were set into the stone structure, intricately carved with flowing Nordic designs.

And before the bridge stood a man. A giant of a man. He would have towered over any Nord she met, and she herself only came up to the man's waist. He had a wide belt made of leather and steel to protect his stomach, though his chest remained bare. The man also wore several thick bracelets, each stamped with star like patterns. A steel torc adorned his neck, and there was another on his arm. He had shoulder length brown hair and silver eyes, glinting in the pink and blue light. He glowed with the same golden light that all the spirits in this place did. When he spotted M'rassi emerging from the mist he started forward.

"What brings you, wayfarer grim, to wander here, in Sovngarde, souls-end, Shor's gift to honoured dead?" He said, his voice deep and rich.

"Who are you?" M'rassi asked the tall man looming over her.

"I am Tsun, shield-thane to Shor. The Whalebone bridge he bade me guard and winnow all those souls whose heroic end sent them here, to Shor's lofty hall, where welcome well-earned, awaits those I judge fit to join that fellowship of honour." He declared.

"By the Nine!" M'rassi whispered. Onmund had told her of the guardians of Shor's Hall, months ago, before Ustengrav. The gigantic man before her was Tsun, a lesser Aedra, a demigod. He was made of the same stuff as the Elder Scrolls themselves. By all the Gods, he was one of the Divine himself!

"I ask again, Desert-Walker, why do you wander Sovngarde?"

"I... " M'rassi struggled to find her tongue. "M'rassi pursues the World-Eater, Alduin."

"A fateful errand. No few have chafed to face the Worm since he first set his soul-snare here at Sovngarde's threshold. But Shor restrained our wrathful onslaught - perhaps, deep-counselled, your doom he foresaw." Tsun told her, glaring at Alduin as the black dragon dived into the clouds further up the valley.

"I seek entrance to the Hall of Valour. I bring word of the lost souls who wander Alduin's mist." M'rassi requested, flicking her tail.

"No shade are you, as usually here passes, but living, you dare the land of the dead. By what right do you request entry?" Tsun asked.

"By right of birth. I am Dovahkiin, Dragonborn."

"Ah! I has been too long since last I faced a doom-driven hero of the dragon-blood."

"May I enter the Hall of Valour?"

"Living or dead, by decree of Shor, none may pass this perilous bridge 'til I judge them worthy by the warrior's test." He said solemnly.

"All right." M'rassi replied, readying her magic.

Tsun drew the ancient Nordic battleaxe from his back and started to circle around her. M'rassi kept her ears fixed on him, tail swishing low as she circled around him too.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" Tsun Shouted without any warning and M'rassi sailed back. His Thu'um was strong.

M'rassi hit the ground hard, and it winded her. Tsun charged at her with a wordless roar and raised his axe.

"Feim!" M'rassi bellowed in panic and the axe passed harmlessly through her neck. She scrabbled at the ground, and dove through Tsun. As she passed through his body, she glimpsed a blinding white light, a deep black shadow, and the grey of both mixed together, representing the divine _IS_, and its refutation _IS NOT_, mingling into the _GREY MAYBE_, the very essence of the et'Ada.

M'rassi barely had time to register his Aedric nature, as she solidified behind Tsun. She whirled as the demigod yanked his axe from the ground. She charged her lightning in both hands, and shot the twin bolts at Tsun. The enormous man staggered when they struck, but he swiftly recovered.

Tsun hefted his axe, twisting his hands on the grip, and he circled around the khajiit once again. The khajiit carefully stalked around him, her ears back and her tail twitching, waiting for him to strike. He feinted left and she fell for it. He swung his axe, twisting it at the last second to wallop her with the flat of the blade.

M'rassi crashed down the stairs, and rolled to a stop at the edge of the mist. Her ribs throbbed where Tsun had smacked her. She growled as she got to her feet, she should have seen that feint coming. A stupid mistake, she'd been lucky that he had turned the blade. Why did he?

She bared her teeth as the demigod advanced again, watching every minute movement he made. He lunged and M'rassi ducked the swinging axe. She leaped right onto him, clawing her way onto his shoulder where she battered his skull with her fists. He may be an Aedra but he still bled like a man, the claw marks oozing the vital red fluid.

Tsun dropped his axe and tried to grab the tiny creature hammering away at his skull. He managed to snatch the scruff of her neck and she yowled when he tossed her down the stairs once again. The khajiit would have to do better than this. Tsun picked up his battleaxe, ignoring the blood trickling from the claw marks.

M'rassi landed on her feet, and sank to one knee, gauging the enemy. She'd been on the defensive, waiting until Tsun made a move before she attacked. Perhaps it was time to go on the offensive.

"Zun-Haal-Viik!" She Shouted. Her Thu'um tore the great axe from his fingers, and the weapon sailed over to the Whalebone Bridge and disappeared between the ivory ribs.

Tsun raised his pumpkin-sized fists and came at her.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" She Shouted and Tsun staggered a step back. With a crack of thunder M'rassi belted him with her strongest lightning spell.

The demigod slammed into the ground with a grunt, and before he had a chance to get to his feet, she'd chugged down her last magicka potion and hammered him with a second bolt of electricity. The force of the blast pushed the large man against the base of the gigantic cloven skull at the entrance to the bridge.

M'rassi waited, teeth bared, the sound of her heartbeat thudding through her skull, for Tsun to get up. She was very surprised, and relieved, to hear the demigod laughing. She dropped to her knees, and weaved the last of her magicka into a healing spell for her bruised ribs.

"You fought well. I find you worthy." Tsun told her. He grabbed her shoulder with hands the size of dinner plates and hauled her to her feet. "It is long since one of the living has entered here. May Shor's favour follow you on your errand." Tsun bowed slightly, waving a hand to the Whalebone Bridge.

"Thank you, shield-thane." M'rassi replied. She saw his fallen axe was strapped to his back, as if she'd never Shouted it away, and his wounds had already closed up. If it weren't for her sore ribs, she would have sworn he'd never fought her at all.

M'rassi approached the Whalebone Bridge in trepidation. It looked very rickety. The bridge was as long as one of the Imperial Navy's frigates, and was suspended over a chasm so deep M'rassi could not see the bottom of it. The bridge was made of the bones of whatever creature the massive skull that Tsun was leaning on was. The large ivory coloured bones were tightly bound with thick rope, and the whole structure swayed slightly in the breeze.

M'rassi placed a boot on the closest rib bone, and the whole bridge gave an ominous creak. It seemed to hold, so M'rassi began to pick her way across the unusual structure. She tried not to look down into the void, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the enormous doors that led into the Hall of Valour.

She reached the platform without slipping, and she instantly felt relieved to have her feet on firm ground again. She cast a glance back to the shadowed vale, where Alduin was hunting the souls of the dead. M'rassi hoped that the souls of Svaknir and Torygg managed to keep free of Alduin's jaws for a little longer. She was tired, hungry and thirsty. Maybe she could get something to satisfy all three once she was inside.

M'rassi ran her hands over one of the doors. It was made of heavy oak and lovingly carved with the flowing loops, typical of Nordic design. Beyond these doors was everything the Nords aspired to. Behind these doors she would find all the ancient heroes of Skyrim. Onmund had told her the old tales of Sovngarde, and confided to her that even though he worshipped the Nine Divines, he wished to come here, to the Hall of Shor, when he died.

Alduin sailed across the Aetherial light in the sky, and roaring loudly, he plunged into the mist. M'rassi watched him rise from the gloom, another helpless soul clutched in his jaws, and was reminded of her task. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and pushed the door open.


	23. Dragonslayer

**Chapter Twenty Three: Dragonslayer.**

When M'rassi walked into the Hall of Valour she felt her weariness evaporate. Her wounds were closed up and her pain vanished. With a rush, her magicka reserves were replenished, the duel with Tsun had drained her.

The scent of meat and mead assailed her nostrils, and she could see a massive fire pit, a pair of cows roasting on a thick spit. Fat oozed from the meat and dripped to the hot coals below with a sizzle. The sight and smell of it reminded her of her hunger, and she was surprised that it too, had vanished.

There were several long stone tables, piled high with meat, fruit and vegetables. There were tankards everywhere, filled to the brim with mead and they never seemed to empty. At the head of the Hall stood a grand chair of mithril, gleaming with an ethereal light. The Throne of Shor, the god of Men. The god Himself was no where to be seen.

And the people, everywhere there were people. Nords in armour, Nords in mage robes and even a few wearing the garb of the Greybeards. They were all eating and drinking and laughing and singing. There were even a few knots of men and women sparring, the clang of steel on steel ringing out.

If she really was stuck here forever, this wasn't so bad.

A hushed silence fell over the Hall when the door shut behind M'rassi. Hundreds of curious faces peered up at her and had she been human, her face would have burned. Not only was she the only khajiit in the Hall, but she was also the only living person.

One man, in gleaming armour reminiscent of that worn by Draugr, got up from his seat. He had a massive battleaxe strapped to his back, polished to a mirror finish. He had long blonde hair, growing down past his shoulders, and a thick beard. With a smile he walked up to M'rassi and held out his hand.

"Welcome, Dragonborn! I am Ysgramor." He said.

By all that was Holy, this was Ysgramor! Onmund had told her of the ancient founder of Skyrim, who sailed from Atmora during the Merethic era. Gaping, M'rassi shook his hand.

"Our door has stood empty since Alduin first set his soul-snare here. By Shor's command we sheathed our blades and ventured not into the vale's dark mist. But three await your word to loose their fury upon the perilous foe. Gormlaith the fearless, glad-hearted in battle; Hakon the valiant, heavy-handed warrior; Felldir the Old, far-seeing and grim." Ysgramor handed her a flagon of mead. "A cup, Dragonborn, to death and glory! Feel free to partake of Sovngarde's sweet delights, but do not tarry long. Shor is eager to be rid of that worm."

"Of course. M'rassi will grab a bite to eat, a drink of mead, and once M'rassi's belly is full, Alduin will meet the sole of her boot!" She declared.

"Spoken like a true warrior!" Ysgramor howled with laughter, and flinging an arm across her shoulder, he guided her to an empty chair at the nearest table.

"Dovahkiin, I am Jurgen Windcaller." Said a man in Greybeard garb. He had jet black hair, swept back from his face, and a thin short beard.

"You're the founder of the Way of the Voice!" M'rassi grinned.

"Aye. My disciples still follow the difficult path - the Way of the Voice is neither wide, nor easy. And if you stray from wisdom, then to Sovngarde you will not return." He cautioned.

"Let her alone, Jurgen." Growled a man beside her. He had shoulder length black hair and wore a circlet of gold on his brow. "The Dragonborn has done well enough thus far. I trust she will keep to the path of wisdom."

"As do I, Olaf." Jurgen Windcaller smiled.

"You're Olaf One-Eye! You built Dragonsreach to catch the dragon, Numinex!" M'rassi addressed a man sitting next to her.

"Aye. And you freed Svaknir, a fool of a poet, but an honest enemy who has earned my respect." Olaf One-Eye nodded. "Sadly, he's now lost in the soul-snaring mist - defeat Alduin, and his doom avert - I hope to greet him here in this Hall as a friend."

"I shall try." M'rassi bowed.

"Well, this is an interesting sight. A Khajiit, here, in the Hall of Shor." Said a fifth man, with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. "And one so well versed in Nord history. You're certainly not the cat I was expecting."

"You're expecting another Khajiit? Who? And who are you?"

"Forgive me. I am Ulfgar the Unending. A khajiit helped me into Sovngarde many years ago. It was a glorious battle! His name was S'havir, Nerevarine, doom-driven and dragon-born. Maybe not the same as you, Dovahkiin, but you bear an aspect of him. I thought maybe he would join us here in Sovngarde, but he yet wanders fair Tamriel."

"You knew S'havir? According to family legend S'havir was the brother of one of my ancestors, Tsajira, the Champion of Cyrodiil."

"Aye, though Tsajira is sadly lost to us, her path lay elsewhere, wandering the realm of the Mad God."

"Then it's all true? By Shor, this is all too much!" M'rassi didn't even realise she'd picked up some of her husband's mannerisms. She couldn't believe what the dead man was saying, that not only was the family legend was true, but that one of her ancestors was still alive? The old cat would be at least two-hundred years old! By the Twin Moons, the idea was outlandish! No Khajiit lived that long!

"Haha!" Ysgramor clapped her on the back and she choked on her mead.

"So where is Shor, anyway? This is supposed to be his realm." M'rassi asked.

"Shor's high seat stands empty; his mien is too bright for mortal eyes." Ysgramor jerked his head at the empty throne.

"He's not here, because I am?"

"That's about the short of it." Jurgen Windcaller smiled and drained his mead, only to have it fill again when he placed the cup on the table.

The shock of seeing that simple action was enough to jar M'rassi. She saw with sudden clarity that she was actually here in Sovngarde, dining with some of the greatest heroes in Nordic history. Oh, she could just picture the look on Onmund's face when she told him about this. If she got to tell him. She might never leave this place. That thought passed through her mind like a trickle of icy water down her spine. She wasn't here to wine and dine with the dead, she was here for Alduin. She drained her mead and placed the flagon on the table, the metal ringing on the stone. She ignored the cup as it filled again.

"Well then, I'd better sort Alduin out then! That overgrown lizard owes me a piece of my tail, and I intend to collect!"

"Hear, hear. We would join you ourselves - we all long to face that foul worm in battle - but by Shor's command we curb our wrath. Perhaps he foresaw your doom." Olaf One-Eye smiled and M'rassi left her seat.

Snagging a hunk of beef off the table, she took her leave. She quickly devoured it while scanning the crowd for the three supposedly waiting for her. She spied them staring intently at her from across the Hall. M'rassi pushed through the crowd toward them.

"Hail, Dragonborn. We've been waiting for you." Said the oldest one as M'rassi approached.

"You're Felldir the Old." Mrassi replied. She'd recognised him from her experience with the Elder Scroll.

"At long last!" Said Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, a beautiful and fierce looking woman with blonde hair and blue war paint. She drew her sword. "Alduin's doom is now ours to seal - just speak the word and with high hearts we'll hasten forth to smite to worm wherever he lurks!"

"Hold, comrades." Felldir interjected. "Let us council take before battle is blindly joined."

M'rassi laid her ears back, their mannerisms sounded strange to her ears. Then again, they'd had thousands of years between their deaths and now, and they weren't even speaking in Tamrielic. Perhaps it was Shor's divine influence, but M'rassi could understand them.

"Alduin's mist is more than a snare - its shadowy gloom is his shield and cloak. But with four Voices joined, our valour combined, we can blast the mist and bring him to battle." Felldir suggested.

"Felldir speaks wisdom." Hakon agreed. "The World-Eater, coward, fears you, Dragonborn."

"And so he should!" M'rassi growled menacingly.

"We must drive away his mist, Shouting together, and then unsheathe our blades in desperate battle with our black-winged foe." Hakon said.

"Agreed." M'rassi nodded.

"To battle, my friends! The fields will echo with the clamour of war, our wills undaunted!" Gormlaith swung her sword and the four of them dashed from the Hall of Valour into the resplendence of the Hero's Vale.

They ran along the Whalebone Bridge across the chasm and they heard Tsun call out as they passed him.

"The eyes of Shor are upon you this day. Defeat Alduin, and destroy his soul-snare."

Felldir skidded to a halt at the foot of the stairs, drawing his broadsword. M'rassi took up position beside him, with Hakon and Gormlaith flanking. The soul-snaring mist wafted over them, chilling them to the bone.

"We cannot fight the foe in this mist!" Felldir growled.

"Clear Skies! Combine our Shouts!" Gormlaith ordered.

M'rassi too a deep breath and Shouted. "Lok-Vah-Koor!"

"Lok-Vah-Koor!" The Tongues Shouted a moment later.

The joined Thu'um of the four of them rushed out, pushing the mist back, revealing the rough cobbled path and lush green ferns. Ahead of them rose a small hill dotted with jagged rocks.

"Come on, jekosiit!" M'rassi scowled when she heard Alduin roar in the distance.

"Ven-Mul-Riik!" Alduin Shouted back, and the mist rolled back over them, cloaking them it its depressing shroud.

"Of course, he'd do that. The coward is afraid to face us in open battle!" M'rassi muttered, and Gormlaith smirked.

"Again!" The flaxen haired Nord woman cried.

"Again, together! Alduin is strong!" Felldir commanded.

"Lok-Vah-Koor!" M'rassi summoned her Thu'um again.

The others followed a split second later. "Lok-Vah-Koor!"

Their Thu'um battered the haze and the hill became visible once more.

"Maybe this time... " M'rassi whispered.

"Ven-Mul-Riik!"

With the sound of rushing wind, the brume roiled in once more, though it seemed a bit slower this time around and M'rassi gave a low growl.

"Does his strength have no end?" Hakon snarled. "Is our struggle in vain?"

"Courage, Hakon." M'rassi entreated.

"Stand fast!" Gormlaith encouraged. "His strength is failing! Once more, and his might will be broken!"

"Gods, I hope so... " The khajiit muttered.

"His power crumbles - do not pause for breath!" Felldir cried.

"On my mark!" M'rassi commanded, and she clapped her hands.

"Lok-Vah-Koor!" The four of them Shouted as one, their Thu'um pushing aside the mist as if it were never there. They waited several long moments, just in case Alduin summoned the mist again.

Alduin roared, his draconic voice coming closer.

"The endless wait give way to battle! Alduin's doom, his death or ours!" Gormlaith cried as Alduin sailed over the hill.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" The black-winged dragon Shouted a stream of flame at them.

M'rassi dived out of the way, scrabbling to her feet beside Gormlaith.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" The Nord woman Shouted, her icy Thu'um missing Alduin as he passed over head.

"No! We need Dragonrend! Pull that big bastard out of the sky!" M'rassi yelled.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" Felldir bellowed the Shout, but Alduin swooped low and smashed his tail into the man.

Swearing, M'rassi shot bolt after bolt of lightning at the black dragon. A few connected as Alduin pulled around the hill, to Shout another torrent of fire at the group.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" Hakon Shouted back, his Thu'um a puff of flame.

Alduin gave a mighty Shout and knocked all of them off their feet. Flaming rocks started pelting down from the sky, smashing into the ground. M'rassi scrambled partway up the hill, watching Alduin weaving and swooping and diving overhead.

"Nowhere to hide! Hunter becomes our prey!" Hakon taunted the dragon, and Alduin just huffed with laughter.

"Come here... Come on... Get your scaly arse over here." M'rassi snarled, flinging another lightning bolt.

Alduin flew up and over the hill, disappearing momentarily. With a roar be banked around and loosed a column of icy air at Felldir.

"Joor-!" Felldir managed to Shout before Alduin twisted and went straight for M'rassi.

"Pahlok joorre! Hin kah fen kos bonaar!"

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" She bellowed the Thu'um as he reached forward with his talons.

The Shout hit Alduin in the chest, and his scales began to glow with the sickening violet-blue. The concept of mortality was brutally impressed on his mind and he howled in anguish. With a might flap of his wings, Alduin sailed off.

"Haha! An excellent shot!" Gormlaith crowed.

Alduin pulled around tightly and landed on the steps of the stone bridge. Tsun stood there impassively, his arms folded. Evidently Shor had forbidden him from fighting as well. This battle was between the Dragonborn, the Tongues and Alduin only.

"Zu'u Alduin, zok sahrot do naan ko Lein!" Alduin taunted snapping his fangs at Felldir.

"Down with you, foul worm!" Gormlaith charged in, hacking at Alduin with her sword.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" Hakon Shouted and Alduin's movements became a little more sluggish after the Thu'um washed over him.

M'rassi pelted the big black dragon with her magic, there was no way she was getting anywhere near those fangs.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" Alduin Shouted, and Gormlaith sailed back, dropping her sword as she skidded over the edge of the chasm.

M'rassi bounded down the hill and across the path, ducking Alduin's tail as he smashed it into the ground behind her. She grabbed the Nord woman's wrist and hauled her back up and away from the precipice. She took up the sword and tossed it to Gormlaith, who caught it and nodded.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" Alduin spat a jet of flame as he launched himself from the ground, taking wing once more.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" Gormlaith Shouted as Alduin passed overhead but she missed.

"Stand fast! The fell worm's death is ours at last, the light returns!" Hakon bellowed a rallying cry.

"Hyah!" The others answered, including M'rassi.

The flaming rock continued to batter the ground and M'rassi shoved Gormlaith out of the way just as one was about to fall on her. The rock exploded when it hit the ground, jagged pieces of hot rock tearing into M'rassi's face and clothes.

"Die, World-Eater, in despair and fear!" Felldir taunted as Alduin swooped low, under the Whalebone Bridge.

"Argh!" Hakon screamed when a flaming stone smashed into him, his attention riveted on Alduin instead of the sky.

"Hold still!" M'rassi snarled at him when she ran over. Weaving a healing spell, she closed his wounds. How could a dead man be wounded?

"Use Dragonrend, Brothers! Bring him to sword's reach!" Gormlaith yelped as Alduin flew overhead, searing the hillside with his fiery Thu'um.

Hauling Hakon to his feet, M'rassi bellowed the Shout "Joor-Zah-Frul!"

Hakon followed and instant later. "Joor-Zah-Frul!"

M'rassi missed, but Hakon didn't and M'rassi grinned menacingly was Alduin's scales began to glow again.

Alduin banked hard, plucking at Felldir, who was dashing across the path into cover. M'rassi watched for just the right moment, then "Fus!" She Shouted Felldir out of harm's way.

"Zu'u lost kriaan hi ont, nu hin sille fen nahkip suleyki!" Alduin growled when he slammed into the ground.

M'rassi bombarded him with lightning, no longer holding back the strength of her spells. Gormlaith leapt onto Alduin's wing, tearing a bloody rent in it.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!" Felldir Shouted, and Alduin twisted his massive head to snap and the man.

Hakon was jumping back and forth, trying to avoid Alduin's crashing tail while simultaneously weaving forward, to hack at the tendons in Alduin's legs. He yelped in pain when Alduin scrabbled across the ground and kicked him with his gigantic talons.

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" Alduin Shouted right in Felldir's face as he took off, bathing the old Nord in flames.

Once Alduin had taken wing again, and the smoke cleared, M'rassi could see that Felldir had thrown up a very powerful Ward spell. The old Nord was breathing heavily, the spell had taken a lot out of him.

"Argh! Shit!" M'rassi yowled when a flaming stone smashed into her, crushing her legs and setting her clothes alight. She rolled in pain, putting out the fire and weaved a powerful healing spell. She howled in pain as her wounds closed, but they would still be painful for a while yet.

"Zu'u ni faas gaaffesejul!" Alduin called as he dived at Gormlaith, pulling up at the last second and slapping her with his tail.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" M'rassi Shouted desperately. She was tiring and she knew it. She wasn't sure about the others, them being dead and all, but she suspected they too were beginning to feel the strain of the prolonged battle.

Alduin wheeled overhead, and M'rassi could see her Thu'um had struck true, the mighty dragon's scales glowed blue. He roared and slammed into the ground, knocking M'rassi onto her back.

"Oh fuck!" She panicked as Alduin reared back his head, getting ready to tear her to pieces.

"Feim-Zii-Gron!" She Shouted as his head came down, her Thu'um turning her body into a ghostly form. Alduin's jaws passed harmlessly through her body and slammed into the hard earth. When Alduin pulled back with a frustrated snarl, M'rassi clawed at the earth, pulling herself out of range of Alduin's fangs as fast as her hands and knees could carry her.

"Fo-Krah-Diin!"

"Yol-Toor-Shul!"

The Tongues carried on the fight, but Alduin shrugged off their Thu'um like it was nothing.

"I have already defeated your friends once. Beyn. I do not fear them." Alduin addressed M'rassi directly.

With a great sweep of his tail, Alduin tossed them aside like rag-dolls.

"Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki!" Alduin rumbled, taking flight again, his mighty wings pushing M'rassi back with the great gusts of wind. He pulled around the hilltop, blasting fire as he went, before landing again on a rocky crag, too high up to reach with ordinary weapons.

M'rassi shot a powerful bolt of lightning at the grounded dragon. Alduin shrugged it off, laughing, the malevolent sound making M'rassi's skin crawl.

"Dovahkiin! You should not have come here! Nu hin sil dii!" Alduin taunted, before Shouting an icy Thu'um down at her.

"Come and get me then, you great coward!" M'rassi easily dodged his icy breath, and began charging a ball of lightning.

"Pahlok! Such arrogance!" Alduin clawed his way down the hill.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" Felldir Shouted, his Thu'um slamming into Alduin.

Alduin whipped his head around, snapping at the mortals hacking at his wings.

"Nust wo ni qilaan fen kos duaan!" The black-winged menace jeered.

M'rassi swore in Ta'agra, draining the last of her magicka into her spell. With a strangled howl she fired the mighty lighting bolt at Alduin, who growled and staggered.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!" Alduin Shouted, his powerful Thu'um radiating out from him in all directions.

M'rassi and the others were thrown off their feet. M'rassi lay there for a moment, despair taking her. She had no more potions, no more magicka. It would regenerate, but it would take too long, even with all her enchantments. The confidence she'd felt earlier was gone, replaced by doubt. She was tired, so very tired. She felt something slip out of her shirt and slide onto her throat.

It was Onmund's amulet, the silver gleaming in the Aetherial light. The wheat sheaf and scythe caught the light and shined brightly. A memory rose unbidden to her mind. One that seemed a lifetime ago, now.

"I just can't believe you killed that dragon outside with only a dagger!" Onmund grinned, leaning against her doorframe in the Hall of Attainment.

M'rassi came to her senses. Of course! She still had her lucky dagger! Smiling, she sat up and slipped the tiny weapon from her boot. She hefted the small blade, feeling it's familiar weight. The tiny weapon had spilled the blood of at least a dozen dragons, and had saved not only her life, but Onmund's too, just as many times. As long as she had the dagger, she had hope, and hope was all she needed.

A roar drew her attention back to the battle. Alduin had taken flight once again, his shredded wings trailing streamers of thick black ichor.

"Gormlaith! Get that milk-drinker back down here! I have a score to settle!" M'rassi yelled to the fair-hair warrior.

"Joor-Zah-Frul!" Gormlaith Golden-Hilt Shouted at Alduin when he passed over head, forcing the idea of mortality back into the dark dragon's mind.

With a howl of anguish and rage, Alduin plummeted from the sky, crashing to the ground and carving a great furrow in the earth.

"Now!" M'rassi ordered.

"Today you die! Your doom has come!" Felldir cried.

"Die World-Eater! You damned worm!" Hakon growled.

"For Skyrim! For Shor! For Sovngarde's freedom!" Gormlaith whooped.

"For Skyrim! For Elsweyr! For Nirni herself! Vaba do'shurh'do!" M'assi bellowed and they charged at Alduin.

M'rassi leaped onto his massive head, grabbing on to a horn that was thick as Jarl Balgruuf's brother. Alduin tossed his head too and fro, trying to dislodge the khajiit clinging to him.

"Su-Grah-Dun!" M'rassi Shouted. She felt herself fill with energy, like the rush of moon sugar after a few days without.

"Su-Grah-Dun!" The Tongues Shouted, and they started pummelling Alduin with their weapons flashing at a blazing speed.

Alduin thrashed and snapped and snarled at the onslaught.

"Tiid-Klo!" M'rassi bellowed the Shout to Time itself, commanding it to obey her will. She gripped her dagger tightly, and with the combined Shouts of Elemental Fury and Slow Time, she could swiftly deliver a great many deadly blows in a short amount of time.

She brought her lucky dagger down. She stabbed him in the eye, like Mirmulnir. She brought the dagger back up and slammed it into the soft tissue behind the jaw, where Alduin's head connected to his neck. Blood began to pour from the wound, like thick honey, only jet black. She could feel Alduin begin to throw his head back in pain. M'rassi felt Time give a shudder, the Shout was beginning to wear off. She slid down off Alduin's head and as Time sped up, she plunged the dagger into his neck and tore open the vital veins. Thick ichor gushed from the wound, covering M'rassi.

Alduin reared back and howled, before he collapsed.

"Zu'u unslaad! Zu'u nis oblaan!" Alduin roared. I am eternal! I cannot die!

M'rassi backed right off and joined the Tongues, two of whom were staring in stunned disbelief at the dying dragon. Gormlaith wore an expression of savage triumph.

Alduin snarled and rumbled and as the thrashed his death throes, and orange cracks opened up between his scales. With a shrill roar Alduin reared up, and with a reverberating boom the scales exploded off, leaving behind a dark, oily, dragon-like shape.

The blast threw the Tongues from their feet, M'rassi alone remained upright, her shortened tail keeping her balance.

The dragon-shape gargled a cry, flared open it's oily black wings and flashed a brilliant orange. Silvery white threads broke away from the body and M'rassi waited to absorb his soul, like she had with every other dragon she had slain.

She was very surprised when the silver threads didn't come to her, but ascended to the bright white light in the sky, in a raging torrent. The last of Alduin seemed to evaporate, then it exploded, throwing M'rassi onto her back and winding her. Delirious, she watched the last of the threads vanish into the light.

Alduin the World-Eater was gone. Dead. She hadn't absorbed his soul so she could not be sure if he really was. Maybe Alkosh had intervened, maybe not. Whatever the reason, she didn't care. All that mattered was that Alduin was gone, from Sovngarde, from Skyrim, from Tamriel itself, and _that right there_ was cause for celebration.

M'rassi started to laugh. Laugh and laugh. Her guffaws rang out in the air, and she heard the Tongues join in. They laughed until their sides hurt and tears streamed down their faces.

"Are you comfortable down there, Dragonborn?" Asked a voice.

M'rassi, still chuckling, opened her eyes and looked up at Tsun, the shield-thane looming over her.

"I just can't believe it's done! Me! A skinny little khajiit mage from Orcrest, doing battle with Alduin in the land of the Nord dead. Aided by the ancient Nord Tongues. It's completely and utterly mad! If I didn't know better, I'd say this was all some insane plot by Sheggorath! But here I am, and Alduin is not!" M'rassi howled with laughter again.

Tsun himself chuckled, scooping the quivering khajiit from the ground and setting her on her feet.

"This was a mighty deed! The doom of Alduin encompassed at last, and Sovngarde is cleansed of his evil snare." He grinned down at the khajiit, who barely came up to his chest. "They will sing of this battle in Shor's hall forever. But your fate lies elsewhere. When you have completed your count of days, I may welcome you again, with glad friendship, and bid you join the blessed feasting."

"All hail the Dragonborn! Hail her with great praise!" The three Tongues cheered from behind her.

M'rassi turned to face them.

"I couldn't have done it without you three. All Hail the Tongues! Gormlaith Golden-Hilt! Hakon One-Eye and Felldir the Old!" M'rassi made a low khajiiti bow.

"When you are ready to rejoin the living, just bid me so, and I will send you back." Tsun told her, placing a great hand on her shoulder.

"You mean I can go back?" M'rassi asked, she thought she'd be stuck here forever, and never see Onmund again.

"Of course, Dragonborn. You are no spectre. You came to Shor's Hall for a task, and now that it's complete, you must return to the land of the living. I hope to see you here again, at the end of your life's road. When you feel ready to return, just call upon me to send you back."

"Soon. But first, how about a flagon of Shor's finest for the victors?" M'rassi grinned cheekily. She looked forward to heading back, but the mortal realm could wait five more minutes.

"Haha! For you, Dragonborn, of course." Tsun waved his hand to a small table that had appeared on the steps of the Whalebone bridge. On the table were five tankards of the finest mead. Tsun passed them out, and they raised them high.

"To Skyrim! To Shor! To Sovngarde!" They all toasted and chugged down their mead.

M'rassi felt all her weariness and pain melt away, as the golden liquid flowed down her gullet. The mead itself tasted like none other, it was exquisite.

"By Alkosh, that's some good mead. I could certainly drink that for eternity!" M'rassi said and the rest chuckled.

"I'll look for you, friend, when at last you return to Shor's hall. The honour will be ours when you rejoin the ranks of Sovngarde." Hakon One-Eye said, clapping her on her back.

"Our ancient debt for Alduin's reprieve is now repaid - the long night is ended!" Felldir the Old smiled and bowed.

"Even here, where heroes throng, few can match this mighty deed! What glory! The gods themselves must envy us this well-earned honour!" Gormlaith Golden-Hilt crowed triumphantly.

"I look forward to the day I return to this place." M'rassi smiled.

She looked around, trying to etch the place into her memory, her husband would be full of questions. She studied the Hall of Valour and the Hero's Vale now that they were no longer shrouded in mist. She breathed deeply of the loamy air, feeling the warmth of the Aetherial light. Some of the dead were already staring to emerge from the valley, hope and awe on their faces as they began the trek to the Whalebone Bridge. M'rassi spied Torygg and Svaknir among them, and she inclined her head when they waved.

"I am ready." M'rassi turned to Tsun.

"Return now to Nirn, with this rich boon from Shor, my lord: a Shout to bring a hero from Sovngarde in your hour of need." Tsun bowed, spreading his arms wide, silvery threads flowing from him to her.

Hun, Hero. Kaal, Champion. Zoor, Legend.

"Thank you Tsun, shield-thane of Shor." M'rassi smiled.

"Nahl-Daal-Vus!" Tsun Shouted at her.

His Thu'um threw her to the ground and she saw stars.


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue.**

M'rassi groaned and pushed herself to her hands and knees.

Snow. She was lying on snow. Where was she? M'rassi twisted her head around, and saw the familiar rocky crags of the Throat of the World. The sun had just sunk below the horizon casting eerie shadows on the mountaintop. And there was her pack and bow, miraculously laying in the snow.

M'rassi heard someone running, boots crunching in the snow, and before she could look she was tackled to the ground by Onmund. They tumbled over and over, laughing and crying to see each other again, overcome with joy.

"Shor's blood! You did it! You came back! I knew you could do it!" Onmund cried exultantly as they rolled to a stop.

"Of course I came back!" She purred in his ear. "You can't get rid of me that easily! Now and forever, remember!"

"Now and forever!" The Nord grinned and kissed her.

M'rassi hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go. By every Divine in every pantheon she was happy to see him. When she wound up in Sovngarde she wasn't sure she'd ever get to hold him again. And now here she was, in his arms once again. He was hers and she was his, and that was as it should be. But what was he doing up here? How did he get here, through the storms that raged on the summit?

"Hold the sugar? How did you get up here?"

"It's a long story." He replied sheepishly. "Anyway, I think you'd better have a look up there." He pointed up to the rocky peak.

M'rassi studied the dark shadows with her feline eyes. The clouds parted and the aurora shone through, illuminating the mountain in a pale blue-green light. The shadows resolved themselves into dragons, at least half a dozen, all clustered on the narrow summit. With a great shuffling of leathery wings, the dragons reared back as one.

"Alduin mahlaan!" The gathered dov Shouted to the heavens, and a crack of thunder punctuated their combined Thu'um, and the mountain trembled.

One dragon held his head high while his draconic brethren fell back forward.

"Sahrot thur qahnaraan!" Declared a bronze scaled dragon and with a mighty flap of his wings, he took to the air, followed closely by another dragon. Together the pair of them circled around the mountaintop.

M'rassi stood, humbled by the spectacle as the dragons raised their heads again.

"Alduin mahlaan!" They chanted.

A dragon further up the mountain craned his neck to address M'rassi. "Dovahkiin los ok dovakriid!" He declared and he took wing with along with another dragon, adding their roars to the dragons wheeling in the sky.

"Alduin mahlaan!" The dragons Shouted again, including those in the air.

"Thu'umii los nahlot!" Declared a green scaled dragon further up the mountain before he launched himself into the sky with a flurry of snow, adding his voice to the others.

"Alduin mahlaan!" They Shouted again with a crack of thunder and the mountain shuddered once more.

"Mu los vomir!" The last dragon stated, opening his wings wide.

"Alduin mahlaan!" The dragons called once more, and continued to wheel around the mountain, calling to each other and the Dovahkiin with their voices. The whole of Skyrim could probably hear the commotion.

"So, it is done."

M'rassi whirled around to find Paarthurnax sitting in his usual spot on the broken Word Wall. She felt Onmund twine his fingers with hers and she curled her tail around his knee.

"Alduin dilon." Paarthurnax continued sadly. "The Eldest is no more, he who came before all others, and has always been."

"You don't sound very happy, Master Paarthurnax." M'rassi replied.

"Happy? No, I am not happy. Zeymahi lost ont du'ul Bormahu. Alduin was once the crown of our father Akatosh's creation." The sage-green dragon rumbled. "You did what was necessary. Alduin had flown far from the path of right action in his pahlok - the arrogance of his power. But I cannot celebrate his fall. Zu'u tiiraaz ahst ok mah. He was my brother once. This world will never be the same."

"The world is a better place without Alduin." M'rassi said, though she understood Paarthurnax's sadness.

"Perhaps." The dragon replied. "At least it will continue to exist. Grik los lein. And, as you told me once, the next world will have to take care of itself. Ful nii los. Even I cannot see past Time's ending." He tossed his horns, shaking off a dusting of snow. "But I forget myself. Krosis. So los mid fahdon. Melancholy is an easy trap for a dovah to fall into."

"I understand." M'rassi bowed, listening to the dragons whirling overhead.

"You have won a mighty victory. Sahrot krongrah - one that will echo through all the ages of this world for those who have eyes to see. Savour your triumph, Dovahkiin. This is not the last of what you will write on the currents of Time."

M'rassi shot an exasperated glance at Onmund, and saw the same expression on his face. What next? What else could the world possibly throw at them, now?

"Goraan!" Paarthurnax called, rising from his perch with mighty flaps of his wings. "I feel younger than I have in many an age!" He banked around the Word Wall and flapped his wings to hover in the sky above them.

M'rassi retreated from the stinging snow, kicked up by his wings.

"Many of the dovahhe are now scattered across Keizaal. Without Alduin's lordship, they may yet bow to the vahzen... rightness of my Thu'um. But willing or no, they will hear it! Fare thee well, Dovahkiin!" And with a mighty roar, Paarthurnax sailed off into the night.

One by one, the remaining dragons dispersed, except for a familiar burgundy and violet scaled dragon. He landed on a rocky crag, twisted his head to M'rassi and leapt down to the snowy shelf. The ground shuddered as Odahviing landed right in front of them.

"Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein. I wish the Old One luck on his... quest." Odahviing rumbled. "But I doubt many will wish to exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax's 'Way of the Voice'. As for myself, you've proven your mastery twice over. Thuri, Dovahkiin. I gladly acknowledge the power of your Thu'um." He lowered his head, almost bowing. "Zu'u Odahviing. Call me when you have need, and I will come if I can." And he launched himself into the air.

"No, wait!" M'rassi dashed forward, but Odahviing was gone. "Damn it, he could have at least taken us to High Hrothgar!"

"Guess we'll have to go the old-fashioned way." Onmund said, lighting a mage flame above his palm.

"Ha! Last one to the Temple, buys at Ivarstead!" M'rassi took off into the night, conjuring her own wisp of light.

Onmund smiled, some things never changed, and he wouldn't have them any other way. He ran after her.

##########

The Greybeards were waiting in the dining hall when M'rassi and Onmund arrived just before midnight.

"Masters." M'rassi smiled and bowed.

The old men looked around and smiled at the Khajiit. With a scraping of chairs they all got to their feet and approached M'rassi. Master Arngeir studied her face intently for a few moments.

"I can see it in your eyes." He said, quietly. "You've seen the land of the gods and returned. Does this mean... is it done? Is Alduin truly defeated?"

"I hope so. I didn't absorb his soul when he died. I don't know if Alduin can ever be completely destroyed." M'rassi replied.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Dragons are not like normal mortal creatures, and Alduin was unique even among dragonkind. He may be permitted to return at the end of time to fulfil his purpose as the World-Eater. But that is for the gods to decide. You have done your part." Arngeir answered solemnly.

He put a hand on M'rassi's shoulder, and the other Greybeards did the same. Their wizened faces were smiling, and their eyes twinkled in admiration and respect.

"You've shown yourself mighty, both in Voice and deed. In order to defeat Alduin you've gained mastery of dreadful weapons. Now it is up to you to decide what to do with your power and skill. Will you be a hero whose name is remembered in song throughout the ages? Or will your name be a curse to future generations? Or will you merely fade from history, unremembered?" Master Arngeir grinned broadly. "Let the Way of the Voice be your guide, and the path of wisdom will be clear to you. Breath and focus, Dragonborn. Your future lies before you."

"Thank you, Master Arngeir."

"Su'um ahrk morah, Dovahkiin." Eitharth, Borri and Wulfgar chanted, the Temple shaking with their Thu'um.

"Su'um ahrk morah." M'rassi repeated and the Greybeards all withdrew, leaving M'rassi and Onmund alone in the dining hall.

"So, here we are. You're in one piece and Alduin is... gone. What now? Back to the College?" He leaned on the table and folded his arms.

"Not straight away. I did promise Jarl Balgruuf a party." She grinned.

"You know us Nords, we love a party!"

"Aye, and so do us Khajiit!"

##########

They took their leave of the Greybeards early the next morning. If they were lucky, they'd reach Riverwood later that evening. From there it was a half day's walk to one of the biggest parties Skyrim will have ever seen. From the steps of High Hrothgar, they could see Dragonsreach was flying extra banners, though they were too far away to make out.

"How did you get up to the summit anyway?" M'rassi asked.

"After you left with Odahviing, I felt compelled to go to the Throat of the World. I didn't know how, all I knew was that I had to be there. So I climbed up here and Master Arngeir had told me that Paarthurnax wished to speak with me. You should have seen the look on his face, he couldn't believe that Paarthurnax would deign to speak to anyone outside of the Order. It was Master Borri, I think, that brought me up the mountain. That was yesterday morning." Onmund explained.

"Yesterday morning? How long was I gone?" M'rassi asked, confused.

"Almost five days."

"Alkosh... by my reckoning I was only gone for a one! Time must move differently in Sovngarde."

"You've changed your tune!" Onmund teased.

"Aye. I'm not entirely sure what Sovngarde is, but it's physical existence, I'll give it that. But now I have even more questions! What is Shor? I've always thought of him as Lorkhaj, the Trickster. Is he Aedra? Daedra? Both? Neither? What of the other et'Ada? And Alduin himself, was he a piece of Alkosh? Or like Tsun, something completely different? Gods, so many questions, too many!"

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't have questions!" Onmund laughed.

"You wouldn't have me any other way." M'rassi grinned.

"Aye. That I wouldn't, M'rassi Half-Tail!" He teased back.

"You watch yourself, Onmund White-Scythe... Come on, if we hurry, we can have a nice warm mead with lunch at Ivarstead. Wilhelm makes the best stew." She scuffed her boot and gave her husband a warm smile.

"That he does. Shall we go, then?" Onmund agreed.

"Together?" M'rassi held out her hand.

"Together." Onmund threaded his fingers through hers, and together they walked down the mountain and into legend.

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,_

_Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_

_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan,_

_Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!_

_Huzrah nu, kul do od, wah aan bok lingrah vod,_

_Ahrk fin tey, boziik fun, do fin gein!_

_Wo lostfron wah ney dov, ahrk fin reyliik do jul,_

_Voth aan suleyk wah ronit faal krein!_

_Ahrk fin zul, rok drey kod, nau tol morokei frod,_

_Rul lot Taazokaan motaad voth kein!_

_Sahrot Thu'um, med aan tuz, vey zeim hokoron pah,_

_Ol fin Dovahkiin komeyt ok rein!_

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,_

_Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_

_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan,_

_Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!_

_Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah,_

_Tol fod zeymah win kein meyz fuundein!_

_Alduin, feyn do jun, kruziik vokun, staadnav,_

_Voth aan bahlok wah diivon fin lein!_

_Nuz aan sul, fent alok, fod fin vul dovah nok,_

_Fen kos nahlot mahfaeraak ahrk ruz!_

_Paaz Keizaal fen kos stin nol bein Alduin jot,_

_Dovahkiin kos fin saviik do muz!_

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,_

_Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_

_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan,_

_Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!_

_Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honour is sworn,_

_To keep evil forever at bay!_

_And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout,_

_Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!_

_Hearken now, sons of snow, to an age, long ago_

_And the tale, boldly told, of the one!_

_Who was kin to both wyrm, and the races of man,_

_With a power to rival the sun!_

_And the voice, he did wield, on that glorious field,_

_When great Tamriel shuddered with war!_

_Mighty Thu'um, like a blade, cut through enemies all,_

_As the Dragonborn issued his roar!_

_Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honour is sworn,_

_To keep evil forever at bay!_

_And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout,_

_Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!_

_And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold,_

_That when brothers wage war, come unfurled!_

_Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound,_

_With a hunger to swallow the world!_

_But a day shall arise, when the dark dragon's lies,_

_Will be silenced forever and then!_

_Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin's maw,_

_Dragonborn be the saviour of men!_

_Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honour is sworn,_

_To keep evil forever at bay!_

_And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout,_

_Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!_

Author's Note: Shout of the World-Eater was a six month long labour of love, dear Reader. Since you've enjoyed it enough to have read this far, then please feel free to leave a comment and show me some love!


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